


You've Taken My Love

by NightOfTheLand



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Cutting, Graphic Description, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of Child Molestation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Panic Attacks, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rape, Rape Recovery, Self Harm, Semi Graphic Depictions of Child Molestation, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightOfTheLand/pseuds/NightOfTheLand
Summary: Attacked during a night out Roger deals with recovery and the aftermath of his attack and the effect it has on his relationships.





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter contains a very descriptive scene of rape and a postattack examination by a medical professional, if this is this going to be triggering to you do not read and proceed to chapter 2 once it's posted. Stay safe everyone! 
> 
> This is a fic that I started a few weeks ago and I'm happy with where I've gotten to so I'm posting the first chapter now. This is gonna be a ride so just sit back and enjoy!

Roger couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. Every part of him felt like it was on fire. He was burning but his blood felt like ice. He was numb. But he could still feel hands, cruel terrible hands on his skin, teeth at his throat, sharp stabbing pain like he had never thought he could experience as he was being ripped open from the inside out, arousal filled voice in his ear panting out words he couldn’t understand, foul breath stinging his nose even as tears fell from between clenched eyelids, the feeling of blood and then something else trickling down the back of his thighs. He was choking on his sobs, paralyzed where he was bent over the sink in the single stall bathroom, his trousers around his ankles, face held against the now heated countertop that reeked of stale alcohol and piss with an antiseptic undertone. 

The man behind him grunted once before letting him go to sag boneless against the counter, the only thing keeping him upright, the feeling of blood and come trickling out of him making his stomach roll. Those cruel fingers reached around and grabbed his flaccid cock, tugging at it even as he tried to fight back. The man laughed, pressing against his back, holding him in place, whispering terrible things in his ear even as his cock began to swell, interested even if he himself wasn’t. But he understood biology was biology, he studied it for fuckssake, he knew this didn’t mean a damn thing except his body was responding to physically pleasurable touch, even if the touch made his skin crawl mentally and emotionally. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut, clenching his teeth together to stop himself from making any noise. He wouldn’t give the asshole that pleasure. 

The hand on his cock was still stroking him, the tip now flushed and weeping precome as he felt his pulse increase and his balls begin to tighten, a familiar fluttering starting low in his belly, his hips jerking forward as he came, mind screaming against the abuse, screaming it didn’t want to come it didn’t want this it never wanted this it was being violated! Behind him, the man laughed wiping his now come covered hand down the back of his shirt. He winced to himself as the man finally, finally let him go to crumple into himself leaning heavily against the sink. 

The door opened and slammed closed and he whimpered letting himself collapse to the dirty wet bathroom floor. He could still feel the man’s hands on him. He painfully pushed himself up on straining and shaky legs, finally opening his eyes to look at himself in the dirty cracked bathroom mirror. Blond hair was a mess, tangled and sticking up at odd angles, his face was red from crying and pain, eyes swollen and bloodshot making the blue even more startling against the veiny white magnified by the tears that pooled there. Fat tears of rage and shame and pain spilled over as he tried to pull his trousers back up his still shaking legs. Everything was starting to hurt. He ignored the feeling of blood and come sticking to his skin and now his tight jeans, patting his pockets for his phone. He breathed a sigh of relief, it was still there. He pushed himself away from the sink and staggered from a moment as pain shot through him and more tears fell. He grit his teeth and shoved his way out of the bathroom and through the crowds, heart pounding at every accidental touch, ears ringing with the noise of people and music, until he escaped out a side door into a cold alleyway, body shivering at the sudden change in temperature. 

The pre-spring dampness settles into his body as he leaned heavily against the damp alley wall, digging his phone out with trembling fingers. The screen was almost unbearably bright as 01:13 flared up at him from above the smiling faces of him and his bandmates. A quick scan on the fingerprint ID and he was hesitating with his thumb above the call button. Swallowing hard, soreness and pain arching through his body, he closed his eyes and called praying the other would still be awake. 

“‘Ello? Rog, you okay?” The voice of a very awake sounding John Deacon made him sag against the wall. 

“Deacy,” he croaked out, voice wrecked from crying and now that he thought about it screaming.

John must have heard that something was wrong even in that one word because his tone was firm yet gentle and soothing, “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” 

He rattled off the address adding that he was in the alley, which he was sure gave John pause before the other man told him he’d be there in 15 “just stay right there, Rog, just hold on, I’m coming, okay,” and he could only nod into the phone sliding down the wall sinking to the ground everything on fire even against the cool damp concrete. He could feel fresh blood beginning to flow. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, body curled into a small of a ball as possible, huddling on the damp ground before John got there, the other man out of breath and panic boiling under his calm surface. “Rog,” he called, as he entered the alleyway, before he found the crumpled form of his friend. “Roger!” He gasped out running towards the man now. 

John knelt beside him, reaching out a hand and he tried not to flinch when the warm familiar hand lighted on his shoulder. He must have failed because John drew back almost immediately. “Roger?” He asked voice worried.

The blond looked up, unable to hide his tear stricken face or bloodshot eyes any longer. “I,” he croaked out clearing his throat painfully, “I think I need to go to the hospital,” he murmured, voice catching, heart pounding in his chest, head throbbing in time to his pulse, body aching, blood on his thighs and staining the seat of his jeans. 

Green eyes widened before John nodded, “Okay, yeah okay, what happened?” 

He shook his head, “Just, help me, please,” he whispered. 

“Yeah, of course, okay,” John reached for him again before hesitating, “Can I…?” 

He nodded, uncurling himself face tightening in pain as he moved. He was sure John suspected something, that John would know from the very pronounced limp and wince with every step, but bless the younger man he said nothing, just helped the blond to his car. 

John drove in silence the entire way to the closest hospital, the air tense with everything unspoken, broken occasionally by hisses of pain when they hit a bump in the road or when he had to shift in his seat. The blond man was silent as John parked the car and helped him into the A&E, as he brokenly described in vague detail to the intake nurse what happened, as he clung to John’s hand as he was sat in a wheelchair and brought back from the waiting room, as he painfully replaced his stained shirt with a hospital gown, ignoring John’s stifled gasp at the bruises he knew were blooming along his skin, as an IV for pain medicine was placed in his arm, the older lady nurse whispering soothingly to him as he winced in pain her kind eyes sad as she promised him it would all be okay. 

“Deacy,” he whispered, squeezing the other man’s hand. Green eyes snapped to him, worry clear in every line of his body. “Thank you,” Roger breathed out with a wain smile before closing his aching eyes, letting himself drift in the haze of whatever pain medicine they had given him. 

*******

John was still holding his hand when he woke to the sound of the privacy curtain being moved. He knew he couldn’t have been sleeping long, just long enough to feel groggy as a young woman with kind gray eyes dressed in muted blue scrubs poked her head around the side of the curtain. 

“May I come in?” She asked her voice light and lilting with a gentle Scottish accent. 

Roger nodded at her, as if he really needed to answer seeing as she was already basically inside the cordoned off area and there wasn’t much privacy to begin with. 

“Hello, Mr. Taylor, my name is Jenna Michaels, you can call me Jenna. I am a certified Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner. The intake nurse called me to come speak to you based on what you told her when you came in,” she was smiling at him like everything was just absolutely dandy and he wasn’t here because of well everything that had happened. “I need to ask you some questions about what happened, is that okay?” 

He stared at her, mute, unable to make his tongue work. Everything in him was screaming at him to run, run away from this lady, that she was scary with her too kind eyes and her too wide smile. He was tensed to leave when a gentle squeeze of his hand reminded him of John’s presence. He looked over at the other man and green eyes stared back at him full of love and comfort and for a moment Roger forgot where he was. 

“Mr. Taylor?” The nurse’s voice cut through his thought and Roger tightened his grip on John’s hand whose face went tight, lips pursed. 

John spoke before Roger could even make a sound, his tone right and with no room for negotiation, “You have the notes from intake, don’t you think he has experienced enough trauma for one night without you making him relive it for you?” 

Jenna’s eyes were kind but firm, “The intake only tells me basics,” she said to John, her tone taking a hard edge, before she turned to look at Roger, “I promise, Mr. Taylor, I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t need to know for the sake of being able to properly help you.” 

Roger squeezed John’s hand again, blue eyes wide as he stared at the woman in front of him. “Okay,” he croaked. 

Her smile was blinding and full of comfort. “Okay, Mr. Taylor, was there penetration?” 

He felt his face heat up, heart pounding in his chest, and he felt John squeeze his hand. “Do you want me to step out, Rog?” John murmured to him, green eyes kind and full of love as Roger looked over at him. He shook his head, taking a steadying breath before looking back at Jenna. 

“Yes,” he said, face on fire, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow him whole. 

She nodded and made a note on her tablet. “Do you know if there was protection used?” She asked, looking at him once again with those kind grey eyes. 

Roger shook his head, letting his matted greasy hair fall into his face. “No, no, pro, protection used,” he mumbled, feeling the words stick in the back of his throat. 

Jenna nodded, her smile encouraging and sweet, “I know this is hard, and I thank you for being so brave. We just have a few more questions before I examine you okay?” 

The blond nodded, staring a hole in the uncomfortable hospital bed. The questions he could handle, he could handle words, but he wasn’t sure if he could take someone’s hands on him right now or even ever again. 

“Mr. Taylor, have you had sex in the past week?” 

He snapped his eyes up to look at the woman, face going even brighter red, “Uh, yes.” 

She nodded at him again, “Have you had anal sex in the past week?” 

Beside him John made a noise he tried to cover with a cough, turning his face away to give Roger a little more privacy. The nurse seemed to read that as a sign to explain, “I need to know so when I examine you I know what I am looking for.” 

Roger swallowed hard, feeling the cold from the sterile hospital seep into his body, shivering slightly as he answered, “Yes, this morning, before my boyfriend left for work.” 

Jenna nodded again tapping at her tablet briefly before she set it aside. “Excellent, Mr. Taylor, I will begin the exam now, if that is alright? Your boyfriend can either stay with you or he can step out into the hallway.” 

Both John and Roger shook their heads. “I’m not his boyfriend,” John said, not letting go of Roger’s hand, “Just a friend.” 

The nurse blinked at them for a moment before nodding again. Roger noticed she did that a lot, the nodding. “Very well, it’s up to you, Mr. Taylor. Your friend can stay or leave whatever you feel most comfortable with.” 

John cleared his throat, looking down at Roger, “I’ll step out and call Bri? He’s probably worried out of his mind.” 

Roger nodded, finally letting go of John’s hand, feeling a twinge of guilt when he saw how John winced as he flexed his fingers. He watched the slightly younger man leave, feeling his heart rate spike again, palms sweaty and head pounding. 

Jenna was giving him a gentle smile again as she directed him to scoot to the edge of the table and configured him the way she wanted him to lay. He closed his eyes and tried to think of anything else’s to ignore her soothing voice as she talked him through the exam, ignore the cold press of a lube coated latex covered finger against his aching and probably still bleeding hole. He closed his eyes and ignored the tears that were once more falling. 


	2. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut in this chapter, sorry everyone, but I have a one-shot in the works so be on the lookout for that as well! We start seeing the beginning of healing in this chapter. Enjoy!

Roger woke again to soft voices whispering just on the edge of his hearing. Everything was blurry and he felt fuzzy like he was drunk. He frowned to himself shifting a bit before biting back a groan as sharp pain laced through his lower body, agonizing and brutal. In a flash memory of what happened came back to him and his heart rate spiked and he could feel panic settle in his chest as his eyes flew open. He was still in the hospital, curl on his side, scratchy hospital blanket pulled up over his now shivering body. Every breath reminded him of how sore he was all over. Just shifting his hips slightly into a more comfortable position sent waves of pain through his body, and he squeezed his eyes closed against the tears of pain and embarrassment that threatened to consume him. He knew he had had stitches, three of them in fact, where he had been ripped open while he had been helpless to fight the man. The doctor had said they had found a common date rape drug in his blood work and had advised that he stay overnight for observation. He had wanted to refuse but the terrified worried look on John’s face had prompted him to agree. It may be for the best he figured, while they were waiting on the rest of his blood work to come back, making sure he hadn’t contracted anything. They had given him a handful of pills to take anyway, just in case, before he had finally succumbed to the exhaustion that pervaded his very existence and he fell asleep gripping John’s hand like his life depended on it. 

Roger curled in on himself more, whimpering as he did so. The voices behind the curtain stopped and a familiar brown curly head poked through the gap, eyes wide and worried when they met Roger’s gaze. Brian twisted his lips up in what Roger was sure was meant to be a comforting smile but only made him want to sink into the hospital bed and disappear forever. He didn’t want his boyfriend to see him like this. 

“Hey,” Brian spoke softly, approaching the bed like he would one of his scared wounded animals. 

“Hey,” Roger croaked back, his voice scratchy and weak sounding even to his own ears. 

Brian perched himself on the edge of the chair that had been situated next to the bed. The older man looked like he had been crying, hazel eyes red rimmed and puffy. They stared at each other for a minute, Brian fidgeting slightly as if unsure what to do with himself. “Deacy called me,” Brian started all in a rush, “I got here as soon as I could and fuck, Rog, I’m so sorry, I shoulda been there with you. If I had-“ 

Roger reached out a single hand painfully and grabbed at the other man. This movement along with the soft noise of pain was enough to stop Brian’s tirade. “It’s okay,” Roger murmured, lacing his fingers with Brian’s, squeezing the other’s hand. Finding comfort in the familiar touch. “It’s okay,” Roger repeated softly, closing his eyes against everything, “it’s not your fault it’s mine.” 

Brian made a strangled noise at that and Roger could hear the chair scraping closer on the cold linoleum floor, the older man’s other hand coming up to wrap around the hand he already held, completely surrounding the limp digits. “No, no Roger, this is no one’s fault except the guy who did this to you. And it is most certainly not your fault, you hear me?” Brian choked out voice bordering on panicked as he squeezed Roger’s hand as if that pressure would make the blond understand. 

The blond shivered and tried to curl in on himself, ignoring the tears that were flowing freely. He squeezed Brian’s hand back, tugging at the man’s hand, whimpering, hoping his lover would understand what he wanted. “Rog, you want me to hold you?” Brian whispered hesitantly even as he was standing and toeing his shoes off. 

At Roger’s sharp nod, his eyes still squeezed shut, Brian hoisted himself on to the bed, wrapping long limbs around his lover, pulling the smaller man into his chest, letting the blond bury his face into the fabric of his shirt. They settled so that Brian was on his back with Roger curling around him, pressed as close as he could get, half on top of him, ignoring the way his body screamed with every movement.

As they settled, Brian’s arms around the younger man, Roger just let himself be held, the feeling making his heart rate spike again, but the familiar comforting smell of Brian’s aftershave and the special brand of laundry detergent he refused to let the others use calmed him. The older man held him, stroking a hand gently through his hair as he cried, whispering nonsense words to him as Roger cried himself back into a fitful sleep wrapped up in his lover’s arms. 

***

Before Roger was released from the hospital he was given a round of post-exposure prophylaxis just in case he had been exposed to HIV, a few pills for the pain, strict orders from the doctor for bed rest for the next few days, and to schedule a follow up appointment with his GP for sometime in the next week. Everything still hurt but not as bad as it had the night before, and in the dim light of the overcast early Spring day, Roger could clearly see the bruises littering his body. He felt disgusting and all he wanted to do was go home, take a scalding shower and crawl into his bed and never leave it. 

John had returned early that morning, well before visiting hours and had somehow sweet talked the nurses into letting him sit in Roger’s room instead of waiting in the waiting room. He had brought him clean clothes, a pair of loose sweat pants and one of Brian’s shirt he had claimed as his own so that Roger didn’t have to leave in those clothes from last night. 

Somehow Brian had been allowed to stay the night, wrapped up around him, being used as a body pillow by a fitfully sleeping Roger. (The floor nurses had found the image of the broken young man who had been sent to them late last night cuddled up sound asleep with the other man who had come flying onto their ward like a man possessed eyes wide and terrified until he had seen that the other was mostly in one piece and sleeping so endearing they had agreed to just let them both sleep ignoring hospital rules.) 

Now, Brian was helping an achy and slowly moving Roger from the wheelchair into the back of John’s car, letting go of his hand long enough to scoot into the backseat with him, letting the other man cuddle up next to him ignoring safety belts in favor of wrapping his arms around the shivering blond. The ride home was mostly silent, the radio buzzing softly, John occasionally commenting on a bad driver or whatever, while Brian was content to pet Roger’s greasy hair and hum sweet words of encouragement to him when they hit any bumps in the road that made Roger tense in pain. 

John dropped them off at the shared flat, double parking as he helped them into the building, seemingly unoffended when Roger flinched when John went to take his arm to help him up the stairs. The blond was uncharacteristically reserved and almost pliant as they helped up the two flights of stairs to their 2nd floor flat. 

Brian and John exchanged worried looks before John hurried down to move his car before he got a ticket, while Brian helped a still uncomplaining Roger into the warm flat. Roger flinched as a loud sound came from the direction of the kitchen and he pressed himself closer to Brian as Freddie came flying into the entry hall. 

“Oh, my turtledove, I have been so worried,” Freddie crooned, wrapping the younger man into a giant hug. Roger winced and tensed at the touch, body going stiff at the now unwelcome hands on his body. 

“I’m alright, Freddie,” Roger said, his voice wavering just slightly, still not hugging the man back, which even if Freddie hadn’t known what was going on would have been weird for the blond who was at times even more affectionate and tactile than Freddie was. 

“Fred,” Brian said softly, “It’s been a long night, why don’t you see if you can manage tea without burning the building down while Rog has a bath?” 

Freddie looked over a Brian where the other man was hovering protectively, his eyes wide with worry and seeing the look on the other man’s face simply nodded, letting go of Roger, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze, “I think I can manage that, Bri, no flames required!” Freddie quipped, tone teasing yet undercut with something tight. 

As the man practically bounced back to the kitchen, Roger deflated, wrapping his arms around himself, leaning heavily on to Brian. “C’mon, Rog, let get you a bath,” Brian murmured into the top of Roger’s head when he had leaned down to drop a gentle kiss to the messy blond hair. 

He nodded, almost to himself, and pushed away from Brian, making his way painfully towards the bathroom, Brian right behind him. He didn’t want his boyfriend to see him like this, despite having seen him just a few hours earlier as he helped him change in the hospital. But this was their home, there was something different about the thought of Brian seeing how damaged he was in the light of their own home. Roger quickly shut the door behind him before Brian could follow him into the bathroom, locking it, leaning against it heavily. 

“Roger!” Brian called through the closed door, “C’mon, let me help you!” 

He ignored him, closing his eyes as Brian continued to implore him through the door. All he wanted was to be alone for just a moment, he could handle taking a damn shower by himself damn it, he wasn’t an invalid as much as he felt like was about to fall over at any minute. He knew that was just exhaustion and the cocktail of hospital drugs and illegal drugs making their way out of his system. 

“I’m fine, Bri,” he called back, forcing himself to sound more confident than he felt, “Go make sure Freddie doesn’t burn the place down making tea.” 

There was silence from the other side of the door and Roger could almost hear Brian thinking about how he was going to argue his way into the bathroom to help him. Much to his surprise, he heard a sigh followed by Brian’s very imploring voice, “Shout if you need anything, okay?” 

Roger couldn’t help but feel a moment of success at that. He nodded before remembering Brian couldn’t see him, a small smile twisting his lips as he felt warm inside knowing his boyfriend just wanted to help but was at the same time respecting him. “Yeah,” he called back, sagging against the door more as he heard Brian walk away and presumably towards the kitchen. 

He pushed himself away from the door, shoving back the shower curtain turning the taps, letting the water heat, ignoring the way his body protested. He knew if he didn’t keep moving he would be sore for even longer. Looking up he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

The harsh light of the bathroom made him look even more pale and tired than he felt, if that was even possible, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes that had doubled in size since last night, the dark bruises on the back of his neck, and he forced himself to look away. His eyes were stinging both from crying and sleeping in his contacts the night before, so he methodically washed his hands and took his contacts out, trying his best to not look at himself in the mirror as much as he could. That done, he realized he had left his glasses on his nightstand and he sighed to himself, deciding it didn’t matter, all he wanted now was a shower. 

Muscles screamed as he worked his shirt over his head, before once more looking back in the mirror, he had marks all over his skin, most in the clear shape of finger marks from where he had been held down. As he looked at himself he could almost feel the man’s hands on him and he closed his eyes letting out a shaky breath. He could do this. He was fine. If he just kept telling himself that he would come to believe it eventually. 

Dropping his shirt in the laundry hamper he checked the water, and finding it pleasantly scalding, he tugged the curtain closed and turned the shower on. It took him a moment to ease his sweats off his body, pain more prominent when he bent over to tug the pants legs down and his socks and shoes off. 

A low moan left him when he finally stepped under the water. It was like all the tension in his body was being released and he could finally breathe again. He knew he stood there longer than he should before he actually started working on getting clean. But honestly, the others be damned, he was sure the events of the past night entitled him to use as much damn hot water as he pleased. When it finally started to run cold, he shivered slightly before kill the water flow and stepped out. It was only then when he realized he hadn’t brought any other clothes into the bathroom with him. 

He stood there shivering with a towel wrapped around his waist when there was a knock at the door. “Brian, I told you…” Roger started. 

“It’s me, Rog,” John’s voice was quiet but still came through the closed door, “I have clothes for you, figured you want them.” 

Roger felt a lump in his throat as he opened the door just enough to grab the small stack from John. Nestled on top of the stack was the oblong black glasses’ case and he couldn’t help the small grateful smile for his friend. He was quick to change, enjoying the tension and some of the ache being gone from his body. He refused to look at himself in the mirror, instead focusing on the feeling of soft sweats and worn t-shirt against his skin. He took a deep breath before opening the door slowly. He was surprised when he wasn’t immediately greeted by the oversized poodle he called his boyfriend. Instead, the flat was freakishly silent. 

He made his way slowly to the small kitchen and was surprised to see only John seated at the wobbly kitchen table that was propped up on recycled telephone books they had nicked from their next door neighbor. Two steaming mugs of tea were before the younger man who was staring deeply into his tea. Roger awkwardly cleared his throat. “Where’re the others?” he asked, hating how scratchy his voice was. 

John lifted his head slowly, looking at Roger with something Roger couldn’t place in his eyes. He quirked a smile at him, pushing the second mug towards the empty chair next to him. “I sent them to the store, figured you could use some quiet,” John said softly. 

“How’d you manage that?” Roger chuckled, lowering himself stiffly into the chair, ignoring the way John was seeming to ignore him. 

Green eyes continued to gaze at him softly, “Considering there is no actual food in this place except for an expired box of hobnobs - and no alcohol does not count despite what Freddie said- it was time for them to do the shopping.” He sipped his tea thoughtfully, “Not that I am optimistic about them coming back with real food, but we can hope, I suppose, that is if they even make it back from the store, and don’t spend the rest of the day arguing in the aisles.” 

Roger couldn’t help smirk down into the light brown tea in front of him. He lifted the mug and hummed happily when he found it was made exactly like he liked it. “Thanks, John,” he murmured to almost to himself, looking over at the man sitting next to him. 

John just nodded, and the two lapsed into silence. It was comfortable and Roger felt himself start to drift, exhaustion biting at the edge of his vision, starting to nod off when John spoke again. “You can talk to me, if, when, if you wanna talk, Roger,” John’s voice was soft, not looking at him, staring down into his tea as if it would give him the answers to life and everything, “I can’t understand exactly how you feel, but I know what it’s like to be violated.” 

Blue eyes snapped to John, staring at him as if he was seeing the other man for the first time. Green met blue and John gave him a small smile, “You don’t know everything about me, Rog,” John quipped, sipping his tea again, “So, when you are ready, if you are ever ready and want to talk to someone who can empathize, I’m here to listen.” 

Roger blinked back tears as he just nodded. John slowly reached his hand out and took his, giving it a gentle squeeze before retreating. Roger kept staring at John even as the other man turned back to his phone. Which made Roger start to ask about his own phone, which was slid across the table to him. He grabbed it, unlocking it noticing it was fully charged. He looked up at John who looked up over the edge of his phone with a mischievous look in his eye, quirking an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘I got you’ before looking back to his phone, sipping at his tea again. Roger ducked his head, swiping at his eyes before he set his phone down and went back to his tea, something warm and content settling in his stomach as he and John sat in companionable silence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this. I hope to have the next chapter out soon. I love comments so let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too abnormal for this story here. A time jump happens in the second part of this chapter, read carefully.

After tea Roger had retreated to bed, exhausted from the events of the past day. He painfully and quietly curled up on his side of the queen-sized bed he and Brian shared, back to the door, soft blankets pulled up to his chin. Everything smelled like Brian and he closed his eyes content to let the scent of the other man surround him even if the other man wasn’t here. His phone was turned on do not disturb and set facedown on his bedside table, he wasn’t in the mood for random notifications about the latest recall or whatever else was happening in the world, his hated glasses back in their usual spot next to his phone. He wanted to just close his eyes and stop remembering the feeling of hurtful hands on his body and pain, oh so much pain. 

He must have dozed off because he jerked awake at the sound of the front door being slammed followed by the voices of his boyfriend and best friend as they trudged into the flat presumably carrying groceries with them. Their noise making was quelled by a sharp hiss from John who must have been still sitting in the kitchen. The noise went from the normal deafening level of the Queen household to deathly silent and it made Roger itch just slightly. He had half a mind to get up and tell them to stop acting like he was on his deathbed for fuckssake. He wasn’t dying, he was fine! But the soft bed and his overwhelming exhaustion lured him back to sleep, and he let himself drift off again. 

The next time he woke it was to screaming, which made him sit straight up in bed, ignoring all protest from his aching body. When the bedroom door slammed open and the overhead light flared to life, he realized from Brian’s panicked look and the sudden soreness in his throat that it was him screaming. He stared at the other man with something like terror in his wide blue eyes before he curled in on himself and let out a choked sob. 

Brian was perched next to him on the bed in an instant, a large strong hand gently rubbing his back, sitting far enough away from him that if he needed to Roger could get away. Something Roger recognized as affection bloomed in his chest even as he sobbed, Brian was always looking out for him making sure he felt comfortable. 

“Rog, breathe for me, okay? Breathe,” Brian’s voice was pitched low and soothing even as Roger struggled to follow directions, still gasping for air between sobs, leaning into the slightly older man, letting him wrap lanky arms around him, holding him close as he struggled to comport himself. 

Slowly, oh so very slowly, he found himself matching time to Brian’s steady easy breaths and soon was able to breathe almost normally, with hiccups of sobs wracking his body occasionally. God, he felt ridiculous, like all he had been doing was crying, and he hated it. 

“Bri,” he murmured, sniffling pathetically feeling disgusting, “‘m sorry.” 

He could feel more than see Brian shaking his head forcefully, whole body shaking with the force of his movement. “Nothing to be sorry for, Rog, you cry as much as you want okay? Nothing to be sorry for,” Brian said, his own voice sounding choked and like he was about to cry himself. 

Roger just let himself be held, and let himself cry, trying to force himself to forget everything that had happened. After a while, the heaviness that had followed him since last night crept back up on him and he found himself drifting into sleep again in Brian’s arms. The other man gently rearranged them on the bed so he was leaning up against the headboard, holding a dozing Roger in his arms as tight as he could, never wanting to let him go, afraid if he did something might happen again. 

*** 

Things continued apace over the weekend, Roger sleeping most of the time, waking screaming at random times, with Brian either already by his side or rushing into the room to wrap the younger man into a bear hug and soothe him until he could breathe again. The tension in the flat was tangible and neither Freddie or Brian quite knew how to help Roger. The drummer had hold up in his room, barely coming out unless he had to use the bathroom. The only person who didn’t seem bothered by his behavior was John, who simply shrugged and said, to Freddie when asked, “If he’s still doing this by next weekend, we should say something, he needs to heal, not just physically but mentally as well.” 

So they let him be, at least as much as they could. Brian insisted that he at least try to eat, Freddie sat him down and brushed and braided his hair, cooing at him as his bruises began to fade from ugly harsh purples against pale skin to sickly yellow. John gave him space, content it seemed to simply sit with him and listen when he wanted to talk about whatever came to his mind. Roger was grateful for their support, in whatever form it came but after a few days of their stifling overbearingness - especially from Brian - Roger was ready to scream at them that he was  _ fine  _ thank you very fucking much, he just needed to get back to normal and not think about it and he would be right as rain in no time. 

This theory is what had Roger up early Monday morning, ignoring the slight whine from Brian where he had wrapped himself around the blond in his sleep (also ignoring the way his body screamed in protest when he moved too quickly) as he shoved his feet into his running shoes and moved as quietly as possible from the shared bedroom into the kitchen looking for a giant glass of water. 

The light was already on in the kitchen even at this god awful hour and he frowned against the glare, surprised to see John already sitting at the scared kitchen table. It was becoming a theme, Roger was convinced, him coming into the sparse kitchen only to find the slightly younger man already seated at the table as if waiting for him. 

Now, John squinted up at him as if shocked to see him up and about. He raised one eyebrow at him, questioning his sudden appearance and his attire. “You going out?” John croaked at him, clearing his throat harshly at the end of his sentence. 

It was Roger’s turn to look a the other man in concern, “You getting sick, Deacy?” 

John shook his head, “No,” he cleared his throat again, reaching for a half-empty teacup set to the side of what Roger was now realizing was some complex circuitry splayed about the kitchen table, taking a drink of tea, pulling a face as it must have been cold, “Just been up all night.” 

Roger nodded, suddenly understanding. Not like he was surprised that the other man had gotten caught up in his whatever he was doing with that circuit board. It was a familiar sight, and he was now feeling silly that he had even questioned it. He shook himself, forcing his feet to move towards to sink for the water he had originally come into the kitchen to get. He was efficient with his motions, testing how sore muscles moved as he ran water in a questionably clean glass that had been upside down in the drying rack. 

He could feel John’s eyes on him as he down the water in a few swallows before filling it again. This sudden thirst has just hit him. “You going out?” John asked again, voice a little less rough now that he was talking again. 

Roger nodded, still with his back to the other man. “For a run,” he said between gulps of water. 

There was a moment of silence and he waited for John to question him, but all he got was an acknowledging hmm. He turned to look at the younger man who he was surprised to see was still staring at him. “Have fun,” was all John said, giving him a small smile, the undertone of  _ Be Careful _ ringing in his words even as he turned back to his project on the table. 

Roger grunted at him, sitting the glass back in the sink, snatching his keys from beside the door, before heading out into the cool Monday morning air, ignoring the sore scream from his body as he lost himself in the rhythm of his shoes on the pavement. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Panic attack and sexual content

As bruises healed and his body stopped aching with every movement, and blood tests came back negative for any STIs, Roger was determined to forget the whole thing had happened. He was confident if he tried hard enough he could force all the memories and bad dreams and random sudden terror when strange men got a little too close to him on the tube into a small box in the back of his mind never to be opened again. He even managed to convince himself that he was more than up to having sex with his boyfriend because damn it he wasn’t broken despite what Brian may seem to think. It wasn’t even the lack of sex that bothered him as much as the way Brian touched him, or the way he didn’t touch him. It was like he could see the wheels in the others head turning before Brian would even put an arm around him or touch his shoulder much less give him a cuddle at night. Unless that was, of course, Roger woke from a nightmare, then Brian was there, and Roger would forever be grateful to him but damn it all he wanted his lover back and that included gentle random touches throughout the day. 

Which lead him to this most recent quandary, finding him seated once more at the kitchen table staring into a cup of tea made by John who was watching him with both eyebrows raised at the rant Roger had just half finished. 

The younger man took a sip of his own tea before speaking, voice soft and smooth, lilting with that Northern accent Roger found so suddenly fascinating, “So you are telling me, instead of your boyfriend, who may I remind you lives in this house too, that you want to have sex with your boyfriend but don’t know if he wants to still have sex with you because you are afraid he sees you as- what was the word you used? - dirty?” John’s tone was dry as he recapped Roger’s rant in a single sentence, making the blond man feel like a fool. 

Roger sighed and nodded miserably, “It’s stupid.” 

“Yes, it is,” John agreed before reaching out slowly to put a hand on Roger’s shoulder, “ _ Talk _ to him, Roger, I’m sure he doesn’t see you like that, and if he does he is wrong.” 

“Yeah, yeah okay,” Roger muttered finally taking a sip of his tea, finding it perfectly made like always when John made tea for him. He didn’t know why a sudden warm feeling filled his belly that had nothing to do with the tea he was drinking. He knew it had to do with John and their sudden closeness (they had always been close, the two youngest in the group they had to stick together, didn’t they?) but this was something new Roger couldn’t place. He caught himself staring at the other man, watching how he frowned at his phone as he was concentrating on playing one of his stupidly cute games, tip of his tongue peeking out from between slightly parted lips, and for a fleeting moment Roger wasn’t sure if he wanted to even talk to Brian about sex or if he wanted to lean across the table to press his lips to John’s. And both of those thoughts absolutely terrified him.  

***

It was a Thursday night when Roger cornered Brian in their bedroom. The curly haired man had just come in from class, dropping his bag by the cluttered desk and had dropped himself onto the bed next to Roger with a sigh. They had the run of the flat tonight, Freddie out with his new beau and John at a late lecture. Roger saw no time like the present to broach the topic so he went for it like he did most things: “Why don’t we have sex anymore?” 

Brian’s hazel eyes snapped open from where he had closed them the minute he had hit the bed. He snapped his head around to look at his boyfriend who was sitting on the bed, propped up on several pillows, glasses perched on his nose, reading what looked to be a textbook on Molecular Biology. Brian coughed once before stammering out a “What?” to a very serious looking Roger. 

Roger sighed almost dramatically and set his book aside, twisting to face the other man almost head-on. “Why don’t we have sex anymore?” He asked again, voice suddenly pitched low and unsure. 

Wide hazel eyes stared at him from behind the mop of dark curly hair, shining with something Roger couldn’t place. It was like Brian was just staring at him like he had spoken in some foreign tongue. He felt a flush creep over his features before he cleared his throat and turned away. Thanks a million, Deacy, for the terrible advice, he thought, knowing he had royally fucked this up. “Never mind,” he murmured, picking up his textbook again. Looks like he was going to remain sexually frustrated for the near future. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see something like panic flash across Brian’s face as the taker man pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Roger,” he started reaching out towards the blond hand stopping short from actually touching him. The moment dragged on before Brian sighed as if in defeat before retracting his hand. The silence between them was tenser than it had been in a very long time, or ever Roger was sure. He could feel Brian staring at him and it was making it hard to read, not that he was actually going to be retaining anything he was reading anyway after his question, but he’d be fucked if he wasn’t gonna try. 

Finally, after several painfully long minutes, Roger snapped his book closed again. “I’m off for a shower,” he announced, tone flat as he grabbed some clean boxers and a T-shirt from the wardrobe, not looking at Brian as he all but fled the room. 

The bathroom had become a kind of sanctuary for him it seemed, safe behind the closed door, the steam of hot water fogging the mirror turning his skin red as he stood under the spray eyes closed head tilted back. That conversation could have gone better, and okay so maybe he could have eased into the topic instead of just blurting it out like he was prone to do. But he wanted to know because he wanted -needed- to dream about Brian’s hands on his skin instead of some unknown man’s hands touching him; needed to dream about Brian’s wonderful cock filling him up instead of a stranger’s. 

Roger groan to himself, leaning forward resting his head on the heated shower tiles, letting the water pound against his upper back and shoulders. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the last time Brian had touched him. 

It had been the morning before the Incident. The older man had kissed him awake with slow sloppy kisses, trailing over bare skin, nibbling on skin gently enough to not leave marks but enough for Roger to moan and arch back into his touch. He had wrapped his long limbs around Roger, pressing up against him, cock hard and heavy where it rested against the small of his back. Roger had moaned at the touches, letting Brian reach between their bodies to take him in hand. Long elegant fingers had wrapped around his hard cock and Roger had twisted just enough to get a hand in Brian’s hair and their mouths slotted together. A clever thumb had danced over the leaking tip and Roger and all but begged to be fucked. Brian had kissed him harder, reaching down between Roger’s cheeks, slipping in a finger moaning into the kiss to find him still mostly open from the night before. The prep had been short and sweet just enough to not hurt him before Brian had slid inside. 

In the shower, Roger reaches between his thighs to take his still mostly flaccid cock in hand. Fuck how he wanted release. Wanted to be fucked by his boyfriend, to feel his lover’s warm wet mouth around him, sucking just so on the head of his cock. Instead, Roger was stood in the shower, alone, trying feebly to get his stubborn penis to cooperate with his desires. He sighed, reaching up with his free hand to tweak a pert nipple and he bit back a moan. Maybe he was trying too hard. Fuck since when did he ever think he was trying to hard to have a fucking orgasm? Shit. 

He tried picturing Brian in his knees before him, large hands taking him in hand, stroking him, curly hair plastered to his face and shoulders from the shower. Roger bit his lip feeling himself harden at the image. He stroked himself in time with his fantasy. Brian thumbed at the head of his cock so Roger did; he stroked down the length firmly, just enough pressure to border on pain just the way Roger liked it, so Roger did that, hissing in discomfort. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of rough anymore, he mused, gentling his touch, and the image behind his closed eyes morphed, hazel eyes changed to green and it was suddenly a small gap tooth grin that smiled up at him and Roger moaned as he stroked himself faster with the same gentle touch. He bit back the urge to moan the name on his tongue and instead bit his bottom lip. As he fell over the edge, body shivering the smell of alcohol and piss and bathroom cleaner filled his nose and suddenly it wasn’t his hand touching him it was a stranger's and Roger cried out as he staggered to the floor, even as he came, with tears streaming down his face. 

He sat curled in the bottom of the bathtub shower running cold and shivered, unable to breathe. He was convinced he was dying. His chest was tight, he couldn’t catch his breath and someone was screaming making his already pounding head hurt worse. He was vaguely aware of the tears on his face even as he was shivering under the suddenly cold water, just as he was vaguely aware that the screaming was coming from him but he couldn’t make it stop. 

There was banging on the door. Worried voices coming through the thin wood but he couldn’t understand what they were saying because whoever was screaming -him, he was screaming- was still screaming, loud drawn out sobs that sounded like a wounded animal. The door rattled as who ever was on the other side of it tried to open it and Roger drew his knees up to his chest and covered his ears, and it was only then, in the sudden silence, that he realized fully, completely aware that he had been screaming. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands still over his ears, knees to his chest, hunched naked in the bottom of the bathtub cold water from the shower making his whole body tremble. He curled in on himself as tight as he could, reflexively protecting himself from what his mind perceived as danger on the other side of the door, and he felt every muscle tense as the door banged open. 

Warm arms were suddenly around him and he started screaming again, fighting back against the strong hold. The more he fought the tighter the person held him. He would be damned if he would let them hurt him again. No. He would not be hurt again. So he fought them. A familiar voice shouted over him and the arms let him go to crawl back to his spot in the bottom of the tub, pressing his face into his knees as he tried to make himself as small as possible. 

Vaguely he was aware of the water being turned off. A warm fluffy towel was draped over his shoulders and he clutched at it without looking up or opening his eyes. On the edge of his hearing, he could make out another familiar voice telling him to breathe “nice and deep. There ya go. Inhale and exhale. Breathe with me, Rog, it’s all gonna be just fine.” 

He was still shivering when he could finally breathe. Red rimmed eyes peaked out from under wet blond hair that was plastered to his face, and he grimaced at the sight of John crouched next to the tub several arms lengths away. “Fuck,” he choked out. 

John raises an eyebrow. “Indeed,” he said mildly, just giving him an appraising look, his own face pale and slightly drawn. 

“I…” Roger didn’t even really know what to say, so he just let the words die, hugging his knees closer, suddenly acutely aware of his nakedness. 

The other man seemed to understand, because he waved a delicate hand at him, “We will talk after you’ve had some water and a good sleep,” he said, pushing himself to his feet almost unsteadily, “You should also apologize to Brian for almost taking his eyes out but I’m sure he will forgive you.” 

A lead lump settled in Roger’s stomach. What had he done? He was pulled from his thoughts by John handing him the small bundle of clothes he had brought with him into the bathroom before all of this. “Bri’s in the bedroom when you feel up to talking to him. I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said, giving the blond a sharp nod before all but fleeing the bathroom. It was then that Roger noticed the broken lock on the bathroom door and swore to himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone so much for all your wonderful comments! I am slowly getting around to replying to everyone. You're thoughts and questions mean everything to me! If you wanna yell about this world come find me on [ tumblr!](http://nightoftheland.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This is so late, y’all, I can’t even apologize this is so late. But it’s here now! A little bit of Brian’s perspective and some more about Deacy! Enjoy!

Brian’s face was slightly bruised, dried blood crusted under his nose from where Roger’s elbow had smashed him in the face making his nose bleed. Roger stared at worried hazel eyes trying not to notice the damage he had apparently caused to his lover, trying to ignore the lead lump in his stomach as guilt weighed him down. He had entered the room silently as he could after he had dried off and slipped his clothes on, shivering from exhaustion and impending dread at the conversation he knew he had to have with Brian. 

The silence and tension between the two of them was tangible and Roger slunk to his side of the bed in almost defeat. He was exhausted and everything suddenly hurt, his eyes stung from crying, and all he wanted to was curl up in a ball and sleep forever. Instead, he crawled under the blankets, curling in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees, and tried to make himself as small as possible. He shivered under the blankets and squeezed his eyes closed as he tried to keep more tears from falling. What was happening to him? He sucked in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly, waiting for Brian to say something. But it seemed the other man was content on being silent as Roger silently cried himself into dark oblivion. 

***

Brian sighed as he looked over to where Roger was curled in on himself. The younger man had been such a sight when Brian had finally broken the lock on the bathroom door. Crouched on the bottom of the bathtub, shower still running, screaming his head off, face buried in his knees. When Brian had tried to touch the blond he had freakout of, no matter what Brian had said or done to try to get him to calm down, nothing seemed to work. It was a failed attempt that had left Brian with a bloody nose and a bruised ego, and worry so heavy it made him want to curl in on himself. He didn’t know what he would have done if John hadn’t walked in the door when he did. Roger would likely still be on floor of the tub screaming his lungs out. 

He couldn’t stop watching the steady rise and fall of the other man’s chest as he breathed, the gentle expansion of ribs even as curled in on himself as he was. Brian has sat there in silence as he had listened to Roger gently cry himself to sleep, unable to do anything, afraid if he tried to touch him he would set him off into another whatever that had been in the bathroom. A panic attack, maybe? Brian wasn’t sure but it seemed awfully like a panic attack. 

After several long minutes, Brian could no longer sit and watch his boyfriend sleep. He heaved himself to his feet. John had said he would be in the kitchen so that’s where he headed, closing the bedroom door softly behind him, wincing at the little click it made as it closed. 

John was perched at his normal spot at the kitchen table, bottle of rum set on the table before him, a generous pour shining amber in the glass John was spinning in his hands, his eyes fixed on what he was doing. He didn’t look up until Brian sat down across from him. Brian couldn’t help but stare when red-rimmed green eyes met his. 

“Deacy?” he quired softly worried something had happened after he had fled the bathroom to let John deal with calming Roger down. 

The bassist just flapped a hand at him as if waving him away like an annoying bug, before taking a long pull from his glass leaving it almost empty. He made a face as he set it down. “‘m fine, Brian,” he croaked before clearing his throat, “I’m fine, just need a minute.” 

There was something heavy in the air between the two men and Brian was once again unsure what to do or say so he sat there silently, watching as John tossed back the rest of the shitty rum in his glass before shoving both bottle and now empty glass towards Brian making a vague gesture towards the items. Brian took the hint and poured himself several generous fingers worth of rum, downing it in one go, feeling the cheap alcohol burn its way down his throat, making his eyes water. “Fuck,” he croaked out. 

John laughed darkly, “You sounds like Roger.” 

Brian stared at him unsure what to say, his worry still clinging to him, ears straining to hear if there was any noise coming from their bedroom, wanting to be there if Roger woke up. “What happened, Deacy?” Brian asked lowly, reaching for the bottle again, unable to face the conversation without at least one more drink. 

Green eyes were dark and full of something Brian couldn’t place as John appraised him for a long moment before silently gesturing for the bottle back. Brian slid it across the table to him and watched with growing concern as John just pulled straight from the bottle, making a noise of malcontent at the burning after taste of the shitty cheap rum they were downing like water. “I think I should ask you that, Bri, since you were here with him,” John said, voice scratchy and laced with exhaustion. 

The older man shook his head, feeling a flush climb up his cheeks. “Roger asked me why, why we hadn’t had sex since, well since then,” he said, waving a hand as if to try to get John to understand what “then” was as if the other man needed help to remember that night. Green eyes stared at him, boring a hole right through him, seeing into his very soul it felt like, “I uh, I didn’t respond well, or really I guess at all, and Roger left and went for a shower, that’s all I know!” 

John sighed, eyeing the now mostly empty bottle carefully before sighing again, heavier this time, and taking another deep pull, effectively emptying the bottle. “You need to talk to him, Brian,” he said, shoving the bottle away to fix him with a stern look that was dampened by the flush on his face from the alcohol and the redness of his eyes. “Fuck, I sound like a broken record,” he muttered to himself, seeming to ignore the startled look Brian gave him, shaking his head, “Talk to your boyfriend, because I can’t handle being both of your sounding boards anymore, don’t you think I have enough on my plate? God, you are both so infinitely frustrating.” 

Something like guilt settles in Brian’s chest, okay so he had been coming to John to vent at him about his worries about Roger instead of talking to the man himself, but he didn’t know if he was ready to talk to his lover about everything, didn’t know if he wanted to know what was going on with Roger or if he wanted to continue living in his world of blissful ignorance. So instead he sighed heavily, wishing that there was more rum left before running a slightly trembling hand through his mused curls. “I’m sorry, Deacy,” he said softly, his voice pitched low unable to meet John’s eyes as he traced the grain patterned in the top of the faux wood of the scared table top. He took a shuddering breath before he looked up, meting red rimmed green eyes that were heavy with something Brian couldn’t identify, but it was a similar look to one Roger had when he thought no one was watching him. “Are you alright?” Brian asked, unable to ask what he really wanted to ask the other man. 

John shook his head, scrubbing a hand down his face, looking suddenly absolutely exhausted. “No, but it’s an old wound,” he said closing his eyes, bowing his head, “and no I don’t really wanna talk about it.” 

Brian just nodded, staring at the dregs of rum left in the bottom of the glass before knocking it back with a grimace. If John didn’t want to tell him that was okay, they didn’t need to know everything about each other. Besides, John Deacon was an immensely private man and kept his secrets and who was Brian to try and disturb that. He had other things to worry about, like the blond spitfire who was curled in a ball in their bed and suffering even as Brian sat here feeling sorry for himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don’t know if I like this chapter all that much. I don’t feel like a lot happened. I dunno, let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it. Next chapter. This is late, like I feel like everything in my life is right now, but better late than never hahah. So here’s chapter 6! Hope you enjoy!

When Roger woke the next morning it was to an empty cold bed. He had reached a hand out searching for his boyfriend but had instead found cold sheets and pillows. Instead of opening his eyes and getting up he had instead curled in on himself again, and fought the tears that threatened. It was Friday. Brian didn’t have class until the afternoon, and he hadn’t said anything about having something that morning, so where was he? Roger racked his brain trying to figure out where he could possibly be but all he could think was that Brian hadn’t wanted to be there when Roger woke. And something like cold dread settled in Rogers chest. 

That cold dread became frozen fingers around his heart as his morning continued. Once he had finally dragged himself from bed and thrown clothes on, not bothering with a shower this morning, last night’s incident still fresh in his mind as exhausting pulled at his body, he dragged himself into the kitchen. Part of him was surprised to not see John perched in his normal spot. Instead the kitchen was empty, the coffee pot half full, two plates in the sink. He figured one of those were Brian’s and he tried to get his hands to stop trembling as he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

An empty bottle of their favorite shitty rum sat in front of the trash can ready to go out to the recycling and something twisted in his stomach at the sight. Someone had been drinking without him, his friends had been partying without him? Last night from the looks of it while he slept feeling sorry for himself. Gritting his teeth, he down his scalding cup of black coffee and stalked from the kitchen. Fuck all this. He would show them he was more than fine. 

Grabbing his phone he squinted at the bright screen, blinded by the glare of the full bright screen, he typed out a quick message to some Uni friends - and yes, he had friends outside of the band thank you very much - praying a night out. A few responded almost instantly, positive indications they were up for a night out. A wave of anxiety washed over Roger, but he ignored it, shoving it as far back in his mind as he possibly could, before typing out replies indicating when and where he was thinking about meeting. Plans set, he tossed his phone onto the bed beside him before heaving himself up to get ready for the day. He should at least put in some appearance at class even if it was a Friday and he otherwise couldn’t be fucked to do anything. 

***

John woke with a headache he contributed to a hangover and the emotional memories that had been dragged to the light over the past few weeks. He sighed, curled up in his bed, blankets drawn tight around him, face half buried in his pillows. There was no sound from out in the rest of the flat and he sighed to himself again, thanking who ever may be listening for small blessings. 

Light pierced his brain as he cracked one eye open to check the time. A little after noon wasn’t bad considering just how shitty he felt. Maybe it hadn’t been the smartest life choice to polish off that bottle of rum and the most of the bottle of vodka he kept stashed under his bed. John let out a pathetic groan as he rolled over onto his back, his head spinning, stomach churning. He needed water, and something greasy to help with this hangover. 

Swearing under his breath, he heaved himself out of bed, perching on the edge for a moment waiting for the world to stop spinning. It had been a long time since he had let himself get that shit faced, and something twisted in his stomach at the thought, something that had nothing to do with his raging hangover. He shoved that thought to the back of him mind as he heard the front doors slam close and what sounded unmistakably like a humming Freddie enter the flat. 

Stealing himself for an onslaught of questions, but wanting coffee and maybe some water more than he wanted to avoid questions, John heaved himself off the bed and staggered out into the kitchen. As was his assumption, Freddie was stood by the sink, humming happily to himself. John couldn’t help the fond rolling of eyes at the sight, the older man was so in love it was actually rather disgusting. 

The sound of him all but stumbling into the kitchen - okay he may have been still a little drunk oops - made discerning brown eyes fix on him and he saw Freddie frown. “Darling, what have you done to yourself?” the older man tutted, stepping towards him to steady him where John felt himself swaying by the kitchen door. 

John winced at the question, and the bright light, and the noise, and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting Freddie help him down into his normal chair. “Quieter, please,” John mumbled, folding his arms across the table top, dropping his face into his arms, trying to block out all light and sound. 

He heard Freddie tut again, before the sound of water running and then a glass thunking on the table before him met his ears. He cracked one eye open, turning his face so he could just see the tall glass of water that had been set before him. 

“Drink,” Freddie commanded - John swearing he raised his voice just slightly in punishment-, sitting down next to John, tone taking a slightly disapproving edge to it. 

A trembling hand reached for the glass, and John downed it in a handful of gulps, making a face as his stomach rolled at the sudden abuse. He set the now empty glass down with a groan, nausea coming back in full force. All he could do was resume his previous position face down on the table. 

“Want to tell me why you apparently got absolutely shit faced last night, darling?” Freddie asked, his voice pitched low to accommodate John’s pounding head. 

John groaned into his folded arms, and shook his head, instantly regretting the motion. “Not really,” he mumbled, afraid if he opened his mouth too wide he might actually throw up. 

Freddie tutted again. “How hypocritical of you, dear,” he said, and John rolled his head to one side to crack one eyes open to look at him with a scowl on his face. “What is it you have been telling Rog? Hmm, to be open? How very hypocritical of you,” Freddie completed his criticism with a flourish of hands as if putting the final period at the end of a master work of literature. 

Something unfamiliar roiled in John’s stomach that had nothing to do with his hangover. He sat up sharply, ignoring the way the world spun and his stomach rolled and his vision swam. “What do you want me to say, huh, Freddie?” He snapped, this anger sudden and very unexpected and Freddie’s eyes widened at his tone and he leaned back slightly. “Hmm? What would you like me to say? Should I say that Father Alberts got a little too handsy when I was an alter boy? That he liked to make me sit on his lap as he taught Sunday school? Or should I say that I still have nightmares about how he fucked me the first time on my 16th birthday? Is that what you want to hear, Freddie?!” John knew he was screaming now, knew his volume had risen well above acceptable and that no it had not suddenly started raining in their kitchen, those were in fact tears on his cheeks. 

The singer sat in stunned silence as he stared at John, his jaw dropped, eyes wide and full of something John couldn’t comprehend in his hungover and suddenly pissed off state. John could feel his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Should I say that watching Roger struggle has brought all those memories back when I thought I’d handled it?” He said a little softer now, sitting down slowly, unaware that at some point he had risen from his chair. 

Freddie said nothing, and John could see the wheels in his head turning. But John had no desire to sit there and watch the older man parse everything he had just shouted at him. Instead he shoved himself away from the table and fled back to his room where he closed and locked his bedroom door. The bubble of anger in his chest burst, and he leaned heavily against the door, sliding slowly to the ground. He pressed his face into his bent knees, fisted his hands in his own hair, and sat hunched on the floor as silent sobs shook his body. 

***

Roger needed John to answer his phone and he needed him to answer his phone now. 

He had locked himself in the bathroom of the club, heart pounding out of his chest, alcohol burning in his veins heightening the sudden unexplained panic that was threatening to make him shake out of his skin. He stabbed at his phone screen with a shaking finger, calling the younger man yet again. 

“Hello, you’ve reached the phone of John Richard Deacon, I am unable…” 

Roger let out a shaky sob and hung up, not bothering with to leave a message. He instead, typed out yet another frantic text, vision blurry and hand shaking, autocorrect taking over as he mistyped words. He took several deep breaths, before pressing call again. 

The phone rang and rang and Roger couldn’t understand why he was calling John instead of Brian, why he was so desperate to talk to the bassists when he had a boyfriend who he could be calling to talk him down from whatever the hell was happening to him.  

“Roger?” 

The blond’s heart leapt into his throat at the sound of Freddie’s worried voice, slightly tinny down the phone line. “Fred,” he sobbed, happy that at least someone had answered even if it wasn’t the person he needed to talk to. 

“Roger? Are you okay?” Freddie now sounded even more worried, and Roger could hear rustling through down the line. 

“John, can, please, I need to talk to him,” Roger gasped out, squeezing his eyes shut, feeling the icy hands around his chest constrict even more. 

He head more movement down the line. “Rog, where are you?” 

He just whimpered, breath catching in his chest and he knew he was going to die here in this dirty club bathroom. Fitting he mused to himself even as he heard himself beg Freddie to just get John, he had been...assaulted in a club bathroom and now he was going to die in a club bathroom. 

“Roger?” He let out a sigh of relief as John’s sleepy voice came down the line. 

“John, I, I’m, I think I’m dying,” he said between gasps for air, feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. 

“Rog, listen to me, okay? I need you to breath with me, inhale one two three four, good now exhale one two three four, good, good keep breathing with me, Rog,” John’s voice went from sleepy to wide awake as Roger heard him shuffling around wherever he was, “Can you tell me where you are?” 

“Bathroom,” Roger mumbled out, unable to get any more words out. 

“Okay, where is the bathroom, Rog?” 

“Club, Covent Garden.” 

“Okay, good, good job. Stay put for me, okay? We’re coming to get you.” 

Roger nodded, knowing that John couldn’t see him but nodding anyway, no more energy left to speak, even as he listened as John kept telling him to breathe, counting the breaths and Roger followed him, feeling some of the lightheadedness fade and the spots danced away from in front of his eyes. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, locked in the stall in the dirty dingy club bathroom before he heard the door open and John’s voice in person. “Roger?” 

Opening the stall door, he let himself fall into the arms of a startled John, barely noticing that Freddie was with him, his dark eyes worried. Together the two men helped their friend from the club, to the surprisingly cool pre-summer evening, to the waiting car double parked by the club entrance. He clung to John in the backseat, face buried in his tee shirt, leaning into the long fingers that petted his sweat damp hair. He didn’t notice that Freddie took the passenger seat, and that Brian was driving, white knuckled on the steering wheel as he drove them home. He didn’t notice when they got home, he didn’t notice that John and Freddie helped him inside, tugging his shoes off before depositing him in bed covering him with as many blankets as they could find. He didn’t even notice when Brian didn’t come to bed, instead sleeping on the couch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have it, John’s story - or at least part of it. Roger being more of an idiot. Some serious resolutions will be coming next chapter, or at least shall start to come next chapter. Let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is chapter 7 after what feels like a long ass wait. Sorry, y'all, next chapter will be up sooner hopefully.   
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The suggestion had, surprisingly, come from Freddie, who simply shrugged and said unapologetically that Jim had suggested it (which Roger pointedly ignored because that meant that someone other than the few of them knew about what had happened). Brian had nodded enthusiastically along with Freddie, sitting a good distance away from Roger on the couch as if afraid to touch him after the incident from the other day. John was oddly quiet, listening to Freddie but watching Roger who was curled in on himself, seemingly uninterested in the conversation happening around - about - him. 

“It might be good,” Brian was saying to him, “For you to talk to someone who isn’t one of us.” 

Roger didn’t respond, knowing that no matter what he said he would be outvoted in this decision, so he simply sat silently, allowing Freddie and Brian to make plans to find someone for him to talk to. A fucking shrink. He wasn’t fucking crazy! So he had some nightmares, and whatever that was the other day in the shower, and the club, and the morning after, but he wasn’t crazy, and he knew,  _ he knew _ , that going to see a shrink didn’t automatically mean he was crazy, but fuck if it didn’t feel like it considering the decision was basically being made without his input. 

So wrapped up in his thoughts as he was he failed to realize that both Fred and Brain had left the room, to do God knows what, and John was watching him with something very much like concern in his eyes. 

“I’m not crazy,” Roger murmured softly, almost to himself, drawing his knees tighter to himself, pressing his face into the bend of his knees. 

A warm body pressed next to him, a strong arm wrapped around him, long fingers petting his hair. “I know, no one thinks you are crazy, Roger,” John was saying, suddenly pressed up next to him on the couch. And it was comforting to have him close, he might have been feeling a little touch starved considering both Brian and Freddie had refused to touch him in any manner since he had freaked out. John was the only one who was willing to touch him, and he leaned into the touch, letting John pet his hair. 

They sat in silence, John holding Roger tight in his arms, knowing how much the slightly older man had been craving touch even if he didn’t know how to ask for what he needed. Both men relaxed into the others hold, listening as Brian and Freddie talked in the kitchen, their words muffled by the sound of the classic rock station playing from John’s phone where it was connected to Roger’s shitty little Bluetooth speaker set up on the coffee table. 

“John?” Roger’s voice was soft and almost sleepy sounding and John made a noise of acknowledgment in response, fingers not stopping from where they were carding through Roger’s hair. 

“You think I should go?” 

John tensed slightly beside him, fingers stilling for just a moment, before resuming their comforting movement through his hair. “I, I think it might help you if you do go,” he said finally after several long moments of silence. 

Roger sighed again, pressing himself closer to the other man, needing the comfort the slightly younger man so readily gave. Silence stretched before them and Roger felt himself drifting in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of soft voices around him before silence fell again, the only sound was that of John’s gentle breathing and the steady beat of his heart beneath Roger’s cheek. It was a sound Roger found he was drawn to and wished he could spend more time pressed to the other man, the feeling of his arms around him making him feel warm and safe in a way that not even Brian could make him feel, at least not in a long time. 

***

The following week was full of both Freddie and Brian texting him links to look at shrink’s profiles on various websites asking him to pick one. It had ended with Roger so frustrated and discouraged that he had hidden himself away in the very last place anyone would think to look for him - the university library. 

He had tucked himself away in a back corner study carol way back in the stacks, actually doing homework, working on this lab report that was about to be overdue if he didn’t finish it by tonight. Which meant it was the perfect time for him to hide out, with no one to disturb him. Not that he would ever admit to actively hiding from his problems, namely his overbearing boyfriend and best friend and his sudden inexplicable attraction to his other best friend. Nope, he wasn’t hiding at all. 

He viciously stabbed at the delete key on his ancient MacBook and huffed in annoyance. So much for getting this report done on time, he couldn’t fucking think. Not without remembering the warm feeling on John’s arms around him the other night as the younger man held him on the couch as they both had drifted off to the sound of their friends arguing the kitchen and the classic rock Pandora station John favored. 

“Rog.” 

Roger’s head shot up from his books and computer screen to whip around to stare at the person who had called his name. He knew that voice, would know it anywhere, had been having dreams about that voice moaning his name while Roger went down on him. 

“John!” Roger said, voice cracking just slightly, “What are you - how did you find me?” 

The younger man shrugged, “Figured I’d check the least likely place for you to be and voila!” he chuckled, “I also may have asked the librarian if she had seen a moody blond come in and she pointed me in this direction.” 

Roger stared at him for a minute before cracking a small smile, “Yeah, I guess I have been kinda moody, huh?” 

John just shrugged again, dragging a chair from the other carol over so he could sit next to him. “I can’t really blame you, I kinda have been too,” he said softly, lacing his fingers together in his lap staring down at his hands. 

The blond couldn’t help but stare too, absorbed in thinking about how those hands would feel touching him before shaking himself, a firm voice in his head telling him he needed to remember he had a boyfriend (if Brian was still talking to him after the events of the past week or so which they still had yet to talk about - one more thing that was Rogers fault). 

“Didn’t notice,” Roger mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, looking away from John when the other man looked up at him, green eyes wide with something Roger couldn’t identify. 

They stared awkwardly at each other for a moment before John sighed, “I know Bri and Fred have been sending you names of people. I don’t want you to think I’m gonna pester you like they are, but I wanted to give you this,” John dug a bent business card out of his hoodie pocket, handing it to Roger, who took it with a quizzical look, “She helped me, and I think she might be able to help you.” 

Roger looked down at the card. Dr. Jessica Coleman, PsyD was emblazoned in black letters with Dr. Coleman’s contact information printed below her name. Something seemed to settle in Roger’s chest that he didn’t know needed to settle. All the names Fred and Brian had been sending him of people to talk to had been men, and he had rejected all of them for reasons he couldn’t put a finger on until just then. He looked up at John again who was watching him with keen eyes. 

“Okay,” He said simply, “I’ll call her tomorrow?” 

John gave him an almost relieved smile, reaching placing a hand on Roger’s knee, parroting Roger’s simple, “Okay.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't really do much but we see Roger being willing to chat with a psychologist. Next chapter we will see Roger getting some 3rd party guidance and help. :D See you then 
> 
> Also! I was asked to post pictures of how I see the boys in this story: so here you go! 
> 
> [John](https://i-h2.pinimg.com/originals/59/a7/b9/59a7b9e5a502e25bcf0d08f761786d60.jpg)   
>  [Roger](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/48/f3/41/48f341b05e55af93ef661e6d5163ef5f.jpg)   
>  [Brian](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ee/db/41/eedb412f290519399fa18a1e85bbd094.jpg)   
>  [Freddie](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/b7/ba/a9/b7baa98161cffb0ed97b7232e68a38a1.jpg)
> 
> I have so many more pictures to share, just ask and I will share :D


	8. Chapter VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, a new chapter! Look at me. So sorry for the wait, this was a bitch to write but it’s done now and we can start moving forward. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> This chapter has some dub-con elements, be aware.

Dr. Coleman was tiny and unassuming perched on her chair, dark auburn hair pulled back in a twist, silver large framed glasses framing bright green eyes. Her accent told Roger she was Irish, her demeanor told him she at least seemed to be genuinely interested in his well being, even if he hadn’t said anything since he had walked in the door a little under 5 minutes ago. She was giving him a gentle smile that he was sure was meant to be comforting but in his agitated state, he found little to be comforting.

He could practically hear his three friends out in the waiting room vibrating with anticipation waiting for him. Well, at least two of them, he had a feeling John half wished he was anywhere else. But after Brian telling him that he wanted to be there for Roger - the first words they had exchanged in several days- Roger couldn’t exactly tell him no. Not with the way his heart clenched painfully in his chest with something like guilt at all the thoughts he had been having about John recently. So he had agreed to let Brian go with him, and Freddie had jumped in demanding to come as well, and at Roger’s panicked look John had offered softly to join them as well, which, much to Roger’s surprise, had calmed his pounding heart and made his shoulders relax just slightly. 

So shoot him if the thought of having his loving boyfriend in the waiting room made him tense as hell but the thought of walking out to John’s soft gap tooth grin made his whole body relax. He knew he was fucked up, that was the whole reason he was here. 

“Mr. Taylor,” Dr. Coleman’s voice cut through his thoughts, her voice soft and sweet and it too made Roger relax just slightly, “There is no need to be nervous. We are here for you, and I am here to listen to whatever you want to say.” 

Roger scoffed slightly, folding his arms across his chest tighter, sinking back into his chair, wishing he could disappear. This was a bad idea. “My friends wanted me to come,” he mumbled out by way of reply, “They think I’m crazy.” 

Bright green eyes blinked at him for a moment, “Why do you think your friends think you’re crazy?” 

The question was met with a moment of silence from Roger who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Was it suddenly hot in the room, or was that his embarrassment taking hold? He spluttered for a moment, eyes darting around the tastefully decorated room before he sighed heavily, “They wanted me to talk to a shrink,” he finally settled on said, staring down at his hands. 

Dr. Coleman was silent as she watched him, something inscrutable in her green eyes. It made Roger squirm slightly. “I mean, I know that doesn’t make me crazy, it’s just,” he paused, licking his lips before he continued, “I feel crazy, ya know, with everything going on and then my friends tell me I should go see a shrink and it was like confirmation that I am crazy and after what happened last week, I dunno,” he shrugged noncommittally, “just the way they’ve been treating me.” 

“How have they been treating you?” She asked softly, face open and Roger squinted at her trying to figure out if he really wanted to talk to her. 

He sighed, racking a hand through his hair before dragging it down his face. “Like I’m going to break,” he finally mumbled, “well, except John. He’s treated me pretty much the same, but Bri and Fred act like I’m gonna fly apart at the slightest touch.” 

Silence stretched between them again and Roger worries his bottom lip with his teeth. It had only been a few seconds but he couldn’t take the silence. “So I fucked up! I did, it’s my fault and now my own boyfriend won’t touch me and my best friend only looks at me with pity and I can’t stop thinking about how soft my bandmate’s lips look! I am crazy!” He pulled at his hair as tears pooled in his eyes, “If I’m not then I’m going crazy, I wish it had never happened!” 

“What do you wish never happened, Roger?” Dr. Coleman’s voice was steady and calm and it steadied Roger enough for him to blink back his tears to look at her where she was watching him with concern in her bright green eyes. 

The words felt heavy on his tongue as he tried to speak but couldn’t. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, could hear himself panting for breath as he curled in on himself. “Roger?” Dr. Coleman was speaking softly to him, perched on the couch next to him far enough away to give him space but close enough so he could smell her perfume, subtle and citrusy with faint hints of something sweet. 

“Someone raped me, held me down and I couldn’t fight them and they fucked me and made me bleed and now I can’t even have a wank without feeling his hands on me and freaking out!” Roger all but screamed through gritted teeth, fingers tugging at his hair. 

He could faintly hear Dr. Coleman telling him calmly to take deep breaths and to “listen to the sound of my voice, Roger, there you go just breathe with me,” and he slowly came back to himself. A shiver ran through him as he realized he was curled into a ball on the couch, knees drawn up to his chest, hands fisting his own hair. “Shit,” he mumbled out, uncurling himself from his huddled position. 

“Has this happened before, Roger?” Dr. Coleman was looking at him with a gently critical eye still perched on the side of the couch next to him. He could feel his face burning as he nodded helplessly, all will and desire to be stubborn and not talk evaporating. 

“How many times?” She asked, her voice still just as soft and calm as it had been at the start and Roger found he deeply appreciated her for that. 

“A few,” he mumbled, still not looking at her, feeling absolutely drained and utterly exhausted. 

He could see her nodding thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye, and he wanted to curl in on himself even more, wanted to disappear into the fabric of the couch. “I can help you learn how to work through these panic episodes, would you like that?” She asked as she moved from the couch back to her chair, looking at him with soft green eyes. 

Roger swallowed hard before he looked up at her, meeting her gaze. He felt his heart hammering in his chest, his mouth had gone dry, palms were sweaty where he rubbed them against the fabric of his jeans, and he nodded a little bit frantically. 

Dr. Coleman gave him a soft smile in response before launching into some effective techniques on how to quell a panic attack. 

***

It had been five weeks since Roger had started seeing Dr. Coleman. Five weeks of twice weekly appointments and he had just now found the courage to finally  _ talk  _ to his boyfriend, if Brian was even still his boyfriend. They still shared a bed, and Brian still asked him how his day had been and they still did homework together and they exchanged small talk, but there had been no touching and there had been no talking about everything that had happened. 

In true Roger fashion he decided the best way to handle this situation was to corner Brian and make out with him in hopes of avoiding a conversation even though Dr. Coleman told him that was the easy way out and if he wanted to get on the path of emotional and mental recovery he couldn’t take the easy way. So, instead, he was perched on the edge of their bed, wrapped in a blanket that smelled of his boyfriend, waiting for said boyfriend to get home, determined that when Brian did get home they would finally talk. 

Roger could feel his pulse speed up when he heard the front door click shut and familiar footsteps heading back his way. He looked up right as Brian was opening the bedroom door, blue eyes wide and worried at he met his boyfriend's gaze. 

“Hey,” he said softly, give the slightly older man a small smile, wrapping the blanket more around himself. 

Brian blinked at him for a moment before returning the smile. “Hey, back,” he said, entering the room fully, closing the door behind him with a click. 

The blond watched as Brian crossed the room efficiently to dump his bag by his desk, before turning to look at him. Hazel eyes were worried and Roger felt a lump form in his throat. “Bri,” he started, feeling himself choke on the word, before clearing his throat and starting again, “Bri, can we, well, can we talk? Like have a cuddle and really talk? I, I miss you.” He stared down at his hands where he was picking a loose thread from the edge of the blanket. 

He could almost feel the blinding intensity of Brian’s smile as the other man nodded. “Of course, Rog, we can do whatever you want,” he said softly, padding to the bed and sitting down next to Roger. 

Roger sighed and leaned against Brian, wanting his boyfriend to wrap his long arms around him and hold him, tell him everything would go back to the way things were and that everything was going to be okay. They sat in silence for several excruciatingly long moments, Brain not moving to wrap his arms around Roger, Roger still leaning slightly awkwardly against Brian. 

The blond closed his eyes and willed himself not to tear up. That had been happening more and more recently and he hated himself for it, but he knew it was just part of his defensive system, which he found to be particularly annoying in all honesty but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. 

“You can touch me, I’m not gonna break, or freak out, I promise,” Roger said softly around the lump in his throat. He hates that he sounds like he was going to cry. 

Brian shifted just slightly to awkwardly put his arm around Roger, pulling him close. The blond sighed, when had they gotten so bad at this? It must have come with disuse and the general awkwardness that surrounded them now at every turn. He felt Brian sigh, the arm still tense around his shoulders and Roger couldn’t stop the helpless, slightly hysterical, giggle that bubbled up and over. 

Roger had to turn away from Brian, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shook from his laughter. “What are we doing, Brimi? When did we get so bad at this?” He asked between his giggles, breathless from the utter absurdity of it all. 

He could practically feel Brian’s confusion radiating off the older man, and he turned to look at him square, pulling his knees up so he could sit cross legged on the bed, pulling the blanket around him tighter. He blinked away the involuntary tears of mirth and gave his boyfriend and small smile. “I wanna be with you,” he said, reaching out to take one of Brian’s long fingered hands in his own, “So can we please, like, have a cuddle and talk about our days? And just try to get back to normal?” 

Brian returned his smile and scooted up the bed to rest against the headboard. Roger beamed back at him, following his lead, to press himself to his boyfriend’s side, sighing as warm arms wrapped around him, the blanket draped over them both. “What do you wanna talk about?” Brian asked softly, long fingers hesitating in Roger’s hair before stroking the blond locks making Roger humm in happiness. 

“Tell me about your day?” Roger suggested, “Any new nerdy space facts you wanna share?” 

The guitarist laughed at that, whole body relaxing as Roger snuggled closer, pressing his face to Brian’s chest, breathing in the smell of him, closing his eyes as Brian began talking, telling him about the most recent arguments in his classes, about the old lady who scolded him on the train that morning for wearing headphones on public transportation. He felt happier than he had in a long time and he let Brian’s soothing voice lull him to sleep, wrapped up in the warm safe arms of his boyfriend. 

***

Brian woke up to lips on his skin. It was a jarring sensation, one he would have been very used to a few weeks ago, a lifetime ago it felt like some days. But now it startled him and his body awake. He snapped his eyes open and whipped his head around to stare at the smirking blond who was cuddled up next to him, blatantly dropping kissed on every inch of exposed skin. Brian felt his body stir and he grit his teeth. “Rog,” he managed to get out, “what’re’ya doin’?” 

Those blue eyes sparkled as the blond leaned up from where he was covering Brian’s shoulder with kisses to kiss his lips. It had only been a week since they had regained any sort of intimacy, finally going back to cuddling and, well, talking. And Brian didn’t want to ruin it by moving too fast. 

“John and Fred are gone today, left early, we have the flat to ourselves,” Roger said, a familiar tone in his voice. It took Brian a second to remember this was his lover’s flirting voice and he hardened even further. 

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” Brian had to ask, feeling dread and doubt settle in his chest. 

Roger kissed him again, this time letting his tongue lick at the seam of his lips, darting inside when Brian parted his lips in a sigh. They moved so they could get a better angle, Brian now flat on his back, Roger above him, straddling his waist, hips rocking together, clothed hard cocks pressed together making Brian see stars. 

“Want you,” Roger murmured into the kiss, grinding down on Brian with a hint of desperation. 

Brian arched up into the feeling of his lover so desperate for him. It had been so long and his right hand had nothing on the feeling of his lover’s lithe body writhing on top of him, even fully clothed. He let his hand snake up under Roger’s rucked up sleep shirt, groaning at the feeling of the smooth skin under his hands. Roger leaned back from the kiss and reached down to pull his own shirt over his head, before leaning back down to resume kissing him. Brian trailed his hands up Roger’s bare back to tangle in mused blond locks, pulling slightly as Roger’s lips left his and nippled down his throat, stopping to suck a mark to the side of his neck. 

“Roger, wait,” Brian gasped out, tugging more insistently on Roger’s hair, “Wait.” 

Blue eyes flicked up to meet his and he searched that face for any sign that this isn’t what the younger man wanted. There was a flush high on those cheekbones and his eyes were pupil blown with desire, lips shiny and parted with each breath. 

“What?” Roger demanded almost petulantly, “I want you.” 

Heat stole through Brian’s body and all brain cells stopped firing as the rest of the blood in his brain flowed south and his cock ached with those words. “Yeah?” he gasped out, as Roger rocked into him, “How?” 

The blond gave him a devilish smile, “Wanna ride you.” 

Fuck. Brian let Roger wrestle him out his shirt and then leaned back letting the blond continue his trail of kisses down his neck and the hollow of his throat and down his chest where wet lips wrapped around a nipple and sucked and Brian cried out arching up into the touch. He writhed on the bed letting Roger lavish attention to his chest, his nipples oddly sensitive. 

Clever hands tugged at the hem of his boxers and he lifted his hips to help the oddly eager blond pull his star patterned boxers off. Those clever hands with their rough palms made him see stars as they took his hard already aching cock in hand, stroking him the way only Roger knew how. A thumb ghosted over the head of his cock, spreading the wetness there, making Brian groan and buck his hips up. It had been so long. All he could do was pant helplessly as he lost himself to the feeling of his long missed lover’s touch. 

Vaguely he was aware of the sound of Roger reaching for the bedside table where they kept their lube and condoms. The blond never stopped touching him even as Brian could hear the wet sounds and Roger’s little noises as the blond readied himself to take Brian’s cock. It was all too soon that Roger was letting go of Brian, the older man making an unbidden noise of protest before a condom was rolled down his length and Roger was hovering over him. 

The tight tight heat of his lover had him gasping. Fuck. It really had been too long. Above him Roger’s face was pinched with concentration and something Brian couldn’t identify but he couldn’t get his brain to work enough to be concerned with it at the moment. He let his hands rest in Roger’s waist, guiding the blond down onto his cock, so hot and tight around him he was going to explode any second now. 

“Feels so good around me,” he bit out as Roger settled on his lap, face still pinched, eyes squeezed shut. Brian paused for a second, willing his brain to get with the program and take stock of the moment. Roger’s hair was sticking up in all directions, his face and chest flushed red, eyes tightly closed, face screwed up in concentration, his cock was only half hard. 

“You okay?” He croaked out, stroking a hand up Roger’s side in a soothing manner. 

Blue eyes snapped open to look down at him and Brian’s heart shattered to see there were tears brimming in those cerulean depths. “Roger? Let’s stop, you’re hurting,” Brian said, hands back in Roger’s hips to guide him off his cock. 

Roger shook his head. “No,” he said, voice cracking, “Want you, please, I, I need you, don’t tell me no, please, please.” 

Panic settled in Brian’s chest and he didn’t know what to do. So he settled on giving Roger’s waist a squeeze, and trying to give him a reassuring smile. “Okay, we can do whatever you want,” he said, willing his suddenly flagging cock to remain interested. He wasn’t interested in making his boyfriend cry in bed but if Roger needed this then he would do what he could to provide. And it wasn’t like it was a hardship to have sex with his devastatingly handsome boyfriend. 

Above him Roger sniffled once before leaning down to kiss him. It was a bruising kiss that made Brian’s blood boil, his body set on fire. His brain stopped working again and he moaned into the feeling of his lover in his lap. Roger began to move above him, setting a hard and fast pace as he rode him. 

The room echoed with their sounds, bodies slapping together, mix of pants and moans of pleasure. Brian was lost in his own haze and he didn’t notice the tears streaming down Roger’s cheeks. Instead when Roger’s rhythm began to falter Brian pulled him close and flipped them, hips working to pound into the suddenly limp body below him. Something screamed at him that something was wrong but he was too close to stop, thrusting into Roger twice before before groaning out his orgasm, sparks dancing behind his eyes. 

Below him Roger was completely still, body limp, eyes staring unseeing over Brian’s shoulder. Shit, what had happened? He pulled out carefully, concern building when he got no reaction from Roger. “Rog?” He whispered, reaching up to cup the other man’s face. 

Unfocused blue eyes snapped to his and Roger sucked in a sharp breath, shoving himself back away from Brian. It was only then that the older man noticed Roger wasn’t even hard anymore and he certainly hadn’t come. The blond scrambled off the bed. 

“Roger?” Brian tried again, panic and dread and a little bit of self loathing settling in his churning stomach. 

Roger shook his head. “M’fine,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself, limping from the bedroom as fast as he could. 

Brian felt his heart sink as he heard the bathroom door click shut and the shower roar to life. What had he done? 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so that happened. What will happen next?


	9. Chapter IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a very long time to write because I wasn’t happy with anything I wrote. So, if you aren’t happy with this know I’m not either.   
> Anyway, have chapter 9.

His coffee was staring back at him with a sneering kind of smirk. The tan depths of the bitter liquid swirled and morphed as he tried divine any meaning from within its shallow depths. Instead, Brian just ended up sighing and wrapping long fingered hand around the warm ceramic staring at a spot on the kitchen wall, eyes unfocused and unseeing. He knew he was brooding. He knew he was being utterly ridiculous. But he just couldn’t help himself it seemed. So he sighed loudly again.

Freddie was draped over the chair opposite him, doodling in his notebook - or writing lyrics Brian really couldn’t tell- and not paying him any attention. Well, he hadn’t been paying him any attention until he sighed again and brown eyes snapped up to stare at him under a creased brow.

“What’s wrong, darling?” Freddie demanded in his soft way, words hard edged yet still tender at their core making Brian sigh yet again and hang his head to once more stare into the depths of his coffee. He didn’t even really like coffee all that much. 

Silence drifted between them and it was making Brian twitch. He knew this was one of Freddie’s tactics to make him talk, make him so awkward he couldn’t not talk. And he hated just how well his friend knew him. 

“I think I messed up, Fred,” he finally settled on mumbling, flexing his fingers around the hot body of the mug. 

Freddie set his notebook aside and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, watching him with those intense eyes. “Does this have anything to do with Roger?” He asked, tone light but undercut with worry that belied how much he cared for his friends. 

Brian cut his eyes to the singer who was watching him with something unreadable on his face. He sighed and frowned down at his mug, feeling conflicted about if he should talk about it or just continue to stew on his own. “I think I hurt him yesterday,” he finally settled on, swallowing hard as the words tasted bitter in his mouth. 

Silence once more stretched between them as Freddie stared at him and Brian felt anxiety bubble up in his chest and before he could stop himself words were spilling from his lips unbidden, “We had sex and I thought we were both into it and then something happened and he stopped responding but I didn’t, I didn’t stop and then when we were done he just left.” 

Big brown eyes blinked slowly at him and he could see the wheels turning in Freddie’s head as he digested the information. “Perhaps you should talk to Roger about what happened yesterday instead of brooding and letting your coffee go cold,” Freddie offered, giving him a gentle close lip smile. “And you can’t beat yourself up too badly about it, darling, if Roger wanted to have sex then he wanted to have sex, he’s a big boy and knows his own mind.” 

Brian shook his head slowly, “You didn’t see him, Fred, he didn’t look right. I know I hurt him.” Brian’s fingers tightened around his mug as he felt heat behind his eyes. “I’m no better than the guy who, who raped him.” 

“Brian Harold May!” Freddie snapped at him, sitting up in his chair leaning forward to make a point, “Do not ever say that again, you understand me? Never again! If Roger hadn’t wanted to have sex with you he would have said so, you didn’t hold him down and force him!” 

Shaking his head slowly, Brian swallowed hard blinking back the tears that threatened. But he had, hadn’t he? Flipped them when Roger had said he wanted to be on top? Taken his pleasure from his boyfriend when the man was clearly is distress? A shudder went through him and he just kept shaking his head tuning out Freddie’s reassurances that he was in no way like the man who had attacked Roger. 

***

The back of a familiar blond head was bent over a stack of papers with that also familiar beaten up MacBook open in front of him. John frowned to himself as he watched his friend from afar for a moment not wanting to disturb Roger if he was truly studying. As it was, the blond hadn’t moved from his hunched position in some time and John felt worry creep over him. They were in the bowels of the library, tucked away in a little used corner, John looking for an old book in the stacks for a paper he was working on when he had spied Roger in a carol looking dejected. 

The debate if he should disturb the other man was swayed when Roger folded his arms over the table and then went face down in his folded arms. John sighed to himself and made his way over to the other man who was clearly struggling with something. 

“Hey,” John said softly, not wanting to startle the other too badly. Roger still jerked his head up and stared up at him with red puffy eyes. Something in John broke at seeing the blond in such a state. 

Bright blue eyes shone with unshed tears before Roger swiped angrily at his eyes. “Hey,” he croaked out, his voice hoarse from what John assumes must have been crying. 

They stared at each other in awkward silence for several long moments before John sighed and dragged a chair over to sit next to Roger, folding his hands no threatening in his lap while he stared at him. “Okay?” He asked just as softly as he had greeted the other man. 

Roger stared at him for a moment before he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing and he shook his head slowly, blinking rapidly against the tears in his night blue eyes. “No,” he croaked again, gasping suddenly for air as he fell forward into John, half sprawled in his lap half being held where John caught him. 

John instinctively wrapped his arms around the suddenly sobbing man in his arms, glancing around hoping no one could hear them, Roger wasn’t exactly being quiet. He made soothing noises, smoothing a hand down the blond’s back, rubbing soothing circles as he held the sobbing man close. He shifted, closing the gap slightly and Roger moved in response, wrapping his arms around his neck, pressing his face into the crook of John’s neck, still whimpering pathetically as he cried. 

They sat like that for longer than John would have usually been comfortable with, but he found himself not minding so much as he just held Roger close. The blond had started to calm down, his sobs tapering off into small whimpers and sniffles now. He pressed his face hard against John’s shoulder and he mumbled something John couldn’t understand. “Hmmm?” He hummed, hands stilling where they were petting Roger’s hair. 

“We tried to have sex,” Roger mumbled, turning his head so that he was facing the side of John’s neck, his breath hot on his exposed skin. 

John shivered at the feeling but swallowed hard and made a noise of acknowledgment hoping Roger would elaborate. “Bri and I,” Roger said after a moment of silence, “And, well, I don’t know if I can anymore.” 

“Can what?” John asked softly, afraid to break the moment they were having by speaking too loudly, the feeling of Roger’s hot breath on his bare skin making him just a little crazy. He’d always been attracted to the blond, who wouldn’t be the man was sex on legs, but he had never been this close to feel the way Roger’s body molded to his, how he felt right in his arms, how the heat of his breath and skin made him feel like he was going to explode. He was glad Roger wasn’t sitting in his lap else the slightly older man would feel how affected John was by this whole thing. 

“Have sex, be fucked, fuck, even come,” Roger said bluntly and John about choked on his tongue, making a choking noise that made made Roger pull away from him looking at him with those red rimmed bright blue eyes that made John’s stomach flip with what he saw in them. 

John stared back at him, knowing his face was bright red and he was watching as Roger licked his lips, his eyes following the movement of his tongue. The blond seemed to notice because he smirked at him. The next moment seemed to happen in slow motion as Roger leaned in, his soft lips parting, long eyelashes fluttering, pressing his lips to John’s, his hands coming up to tangle in John’s hair, using his grip to tilt John’s head to a better angle as he licked at the seam of John’s lips. John gasped at the feeling, his lips parting involuntarily as Roger tugged on his hair, and Roger’s tongue thrust into his mouth. John was frozen for a long moment as Roger licked into his mouth, his free hand resting on the inside of his knee between his half spread legs trailing up towards his inner thigh. 

His wits coming back to him, John placed his hands on Roger’s shoulders and pushed him gently, pulling away from the kiss, pushing Roger back to hold him at arm's length. He stared at the blond with wide eyes. Roger was staring back at him with big pupil blown blue eyes, before his hand slipped up to cup the front of John’s trousers, giving the half hard cock there a gentle squeeze, making John gasp his arms going weak and Roger was back on him again, the kiss turning heated. 

“Show me I can do this,” Roger muttered against his lips, before his tongue thrust back into John’s mouth, tangling with John’s in an age old dance. His hand never left John’s cock that was rapidly hardening. He grabbed one of John’s hands and placed it over his own cock and John moaned at the feeling of Roger hot and hard through the fabric of his jeans. 

Roger’s hand never stopped moving, his tongue never stopped, his kiss growing filthier with each moment, and all John could do was tremble under the others touch, brain misfiring as he warred with himself knowing he should stop this but he was so close. He squeezed at Roger’s hard cock, making the blond moan against him. “John, touch me,” Roger gasped, reaching down to unbutton his jeans one handed, his other hand never leaving John’s cock. He pulled John’s hand inside, under the band of his boxers and John wrapped his fingers around the hot hard flesh there and both men groaned. “So close, please,” Roger panted into the kiss and John began stroking him firmly, capturing Roger’s lips again, both men moaning as they stroked each other towards completion. 

John came first, moaning as he came all over the inside of his own pants, his clothing going sticky from his come. He bit down on Roger’s bottom lip as he came, hand tightening round Roger’s cock, making the blond moan, his hips bucking against the chair before he was coming all over John’s hand. Roger collapsed against John, who still had his hand in Roger’s boxers, fingers still curled around Roger’s softening cock, covered in his cooling come. The blond pressed his face to John neck and pressed soft kisses there. 

“Thank you,” Roger breathed against the skin, and John closed his eyes feeling something like guilt and something else he couldn’t name bubble up. 

The post orgasm moment passed quickly, the two men suddenly awkward as Roger handed John a small pack of tissues he kept in his bag so he could clean off his hand. John refused to look Roger in the eyes as he cleaned his hand off and balled the tissues up, looking around for a trash can. Before he could flee Roger grabbed his hand, the same one that had just been covered with his come. He tugged him close again, kissing him, softer this time. “Thank you,” he whispered again, emotion choking him, “That was the first time, well, since it all happened.” 

John finally looked up at him and met Roger’s eyes. He swallowed hard at the emotions he saw there. Something in his belly flipped uncomfortably and he just gave the other man a right smile and small nod before he pulled himself free of Roger’s hold and fled the basement. He chucked the soiled tissues in the bin by the door and power walked home as fast as he could, forgetting the books he needed for his project, only thought in his head to get away from Roger as fast as possible and to change his clothes. And mostly to forget about what had just happened between them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please yell at me for what just happened because I hate it too. *head desk*


	10. Chapter X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter. New day. New traumas. Mind the updated tags please. I’ve finished plotting it out so only a handful of more chapters to go. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING AT BOTTOM

The interior of Dr. Coleman’s Office never changed, except for the state of her plants. It seemed when she remembered to water them they thrived but more often than not they were sad and wilted. Maybe she just didn’t have a green thumb. Roger shifted uncomfortably on the plushy couch and refused to meet the good doctor’s gaze as she watched him from her chair. He knew he needed to talk about what had happened with Brian, he knew he needed to talk about it, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. So he sat there, and staunchly refused to think about what had happened with John last night, even if the image of the younger man’s face when he had come was now stamped on his brain. 

“Did you talk to Brian?” The doctor questioned softly, breaking the awkward silence and Roger swallowed hard, knowing that the moment he looked at her he would start talking. 

Heart pounding in his chest he looked up and met her kind gaze. He blinked as for a moment it was another set of green eyes watching him and he couldn’t help his fidgeting. “We had sex,” he blurted out, pausing before he continued all in a rush, “Well, we tried, it wasn’t, well it wasn’t good, but I wanted it, I wanted Brian to fuck me, but I just, it didn’t feel like it had before, even when I was on top,” he glanced away feeling heat creep up his cheeks as he talked about his sex life with basically a stranger, “But then he flipped us and, well, I guess I just stopped feeling at all.” 

He stopped again, this time long enough for Dr. Coleman to speak. “What do you mean stopped feeling?” She asked in her soft way, showing no indication that she was embarrassed by her client’s discussion of his sex life. 

Roger looked anywhere but at her, fixing his gaze on the half wilted flowers by the windowsill. “He was on top of me, and all I could feel was him inside me and suddenly it’s like it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Brian anymore it was that guy, and I just stopped,” he intoned carefully, staring at the flowers feeling his heart begin to race in his chest. He took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth a couple of times, using the techniques Dr. Coleman had taught him. She was watching him patiently waiting for him to continue before he took another deep breath. “He finished and I just couldn’t, like I wasn’t even, even hard any more, and I think I panicked and just left.” 

She kept watching him, and he fidgeted for a moment, pulling at a caught thread on his jeans, wishing he had something else to occupy his hands like his phone or a cigarette. “Have you all talked about what happened?” She asked him suddenly, and he let out a humorless laugh. 

“It just happened two nights ago, doc, we aren’t that enlightened,” he quipped, before he sighed, “No, we haven’t.” 

Silence stretched between then again before Roger sighed. “I think I fucked up, doc,” he said softly, twining his fingers together in his lap, frowning down at where his knuckles were turning white from his grip. 

“By leaving?” She asked, reaching up to adjust her glasses. 

“By giving my best friend a handy in the library yesterday,” he blurted out, the guilt he had been trying to keep shoved in a little box coming bubbling to the surface and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hand, fingers fisting in his own hair. “I fucked up so bad, doc, and I don’t know what to do.” 

There was a moment of silence and all he could hear was the sound of the white noise machine in the hallway and the shuffle of fabric on fabric as Doctor Coleman shifted slightly in her chair. “Was this before or after you and Brian had sex?” She asked, her voice just as soft with no hint of judgment. 

“After,” Roger confesses miserably, “It was after.” He tugged at his hair, feeling utterly helpless as he looked up at the petite woman perched on her chair in front of him, tablet cradled on her lap as she watched him with kind green eyes. “I just needed to know I could still do it,” he said softly, sniffling as tears sprung in his eyes. 

Dr. Coleman tilted her head as if she was about to ask another question but Roger beat her to it, “Feel again, enjoy sex, fucking hell, even come!” He let out a garbled noise like a half moan, leaning forward again, tugging harder at his hair before he let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “That was the first time I’d come since that night without having a panic attack, and it felt good and amazing, better than what Brian did to me,” he paused for a breath, sucking in a painful lungful of air, before he let out a humorless noise, looking up at the doctor, knowing tears had started to fall, “With John I don’t feel broken or used or dirty, it’s like he sees me and knows me and has no expectations. And I love Brian, I really love him with all my everything, but the thought of him touching me makes my skin crawl, he looks at me like I’m broken, but the thought of losing him, well that makes me want to die.” 

Silence hung between them for a moment and in that moment Roger knew that he meant those words, all of them, and the need he had for both of these men, these so different yet so similar men made his heart and head and very soul ache in distress. He needed John’s touch and his understanding the way he need Brian’s goody smile and steadfastness to survive. He needed both. He knew, god he knew, he could never have both. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. 

***

The pounding of the warm water was soothing in his back and it helped ease the ache in his body. He hadn’t slept last night, not after what had happened between him and Roger in the library, he had been keyed up to sleep. He had, instead, laid awake in his bed all night staring at the horrible popcorn ceiling of his bedroom, his mind determined to torture him with images of the past. While he had enjoyed what he and roger did, it was a lot like the secret meetings Father Alberts would ask him to attend, where he would insist John sat on his lap instead of the chair, and he would talk about godly things while his tiny too soft and ink stained hands would fondle John through his trousers. He had been so young and so afraid to say anything, but the first time he had gotten hard and Alberts had touched him skin on skin he had come in a moment, fleeing the priest’s office and hiding in his bedroom in tears. As he had gotten older Father Alberts began to demand more from him, demand that he play an active role in their meetings and soon he found himself on his knees for the man, a mockery of prayer, and then the night after his 16th birthday the Father had bent him over his ornate desk in the parish office, and having fingered John until he couldn’t help but sob in pleasure, had fucked John until he came inside him and John followed with a few strokes of an ink stained hand. 

It was, of course, different with Roger, he had wanted the other man to touch him, had returned the touches willingly, out of his own desire, instead of out of fear. Even desires to feel the slightly older man’s cock inside him, after feeling it against the palm of his hand he knew it would stretch him open just right. But he couldn’t think or feel those things. Roger was in a relationship with Brian, in a good and loving relationship, and yes slightly strained relationship, but still a relationship. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, be the cause of that ending. 

He shivered under the stream of water that was beginning to run cool, and he gave himself one last once over with his washcloth before he turned the shower off. He had hoped the shower would wake him up but it seemed it only make him feel more drained than he was. He sighed to himself, toweling off just enough to not be soaked, before wrapping the terrycloth around his hips. No one was home so he was free to walk about the apartment in a towel all he wanted. 

Or so he thought. Right as he was turning for the door it flew open and he was met with wide startled red rimmed eyes of one Roger Taylor. The very man he had been hoping to avoid today. 

“Deacy,” Roger choked out, blue eyes leaving his face to take in his mostly naked form and John felt himself go red at the scrutiny. “John,” Roger said, taking a step forward while closing the door behind him, fingers nimble on the lock. (Of course John had fucking forgot to lock the damn door he was supposed to be home alone, damn it.) 

“Roger,” John said, holding his hands up, palms out toward Roger as if to try to keep him back. Roger didn’t stop, crowding himself up against John who was pressed back as far as he could go in the small bathroom. The palms of his hands rested firmly on Rogers chest and John could only stare at the blond man with big eyes. 

Roger’s blue eyes were fixed on his lips and John licked them almost unconsciously, watching with forbidden interest as Roger’s eyes darkened and his breathing changed. “I’m going to kiss you,” Roger said softly, his eyes still in John’s lips, “I’ve been dreaming about kissing you, and then I wanna suck you off, make you feel as good as you made me feel.” 

John gasped as Roger’s soft soft lips descended upon his, and he melted into the feeling of Roger’s tongue licking at the seam of his lips and he parted his lips letting the other man’s tongue dart in to his mouth to tangle with his tongue. He moaned as one of those clever hands tweaked an exposed nipple before sliding down to cup his already hardening cock though the fabric of his towel. “Roger, Wait,” John gasped, pulling back from the kiss, trying to keep his noises in check and Roger licked and kissed and nibbles his way down his throat to his chest, latching on to a nipple to suck and tease. “Roger, seriously, hold on,” John tugged on blond hair trying to get Roger to stop, closing his eyes as Roger’s hands knocked the towel loose and he was suddenly naked, Rogers fully clothed body pressing against his, his hand on his cock and panic struck him for a second. “Roger!” John said in a firm voice, “No! Stop!” 

Roger practically threw himself away from John at those words, eyes wide and wild and also slightly panicked. “I, shit John, I’m sorry, I,” he tugged at his own hair, refusing to look John in the eyes. 

The bassist sighed and leaned down to pick up his towel from the floor before he took a hesitant step towards Roger. The blond flinched slightly when John laid a hand on his shoulder. “Rog, look at me, please,” he requested softly, and blue eyes darted up to meet his. He gave him a soft smile. “It wasn’t a no because I don’t want you, shit, god how I want you, It was a no because you have a boyfriend, who happens to be one of my friends, and this,” he gestured between them vaguely, “Isn’t right. We can’t do this again, Rog.” 

Big blue eyes blinked sadly at him. “You’re the first person I can stand having touch me,” he whispered, “And I haven’t been able to even think about sex without having a panic attack since that night let alone have sex until yesterday, with you.” Roger looked away closing his eyes his voice going weak. “And it’s pathetic, I know, but you are all I can think about, John.” 

Something clenched in John’s chest and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling the other man into a tight embrace. “Talk to Brian, Roger, talk to him, tell him what’s been going on, you have got to tell him,” John whispered against the side of Roger’s head before he pressed a kiss over his hair. “We can’t do this again, Rog,” he said with finality as he pulled away from the hug. It took all his willpower to reach around and unlock the door and leave, walking quickly to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. 

He could see Roger’s broken and tear stricken face when he closed his eyes and he let a single tear of his own fall as he slid to the floor, leaning heavily against the door, wishing everything could be different. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: John thinks about what Father Alberts did to him, including child molestation and rape 
> 
> Let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move apace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING AT BOTTOM!!
> 
> Shit guys another hard chapter. But it’s written and I actually... don’t hate it? Anyway, mind the tags as always. 
> 
> And thank you so much to everyone of you who have commented and given me feed back. This story is a labor of love and bold topics that are near and dear to my heart. I just hope I can continue to give them justice.

He had told himself that this would stop, that he would stand firm in his declaration that they should never touch each other again, and yet here they were, pressed together in the tiny tiny bathroom in the basement library, the light above them flickering from disuse, tongues down each others throats, hands in each other’s cocks. Roger gasped and moaned against his mouth, and John stilled his strokes. Everything in him was screaming this was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from dropping to his knees. Roger’s fingers tightened in his hair as he mouthed at the outline of Roger’s hard cock through his boxers and with deft fingers tugged the fabric down so he sprang free. 

John felt his mouth water at the sight of Roger’s red hard leaking cock bobbing slightly before him, curved up and slightly to the left as it stood proudly out from a thatch of light curls that John ran his fingers through before he stroked down the hard shaft. Roger made a choked noise in the back of his throat and he twitched as if he was about the thrust forward but stopped himself. John smiled to himself before he leaned forward and with a noise of his own wrapped his lips around the already weeping head of the blond’s cock. 

It was fast and dirty, John licking and sucking and stroking, fondling heavy balls in his hand, stroking himself off with the other as he sucked and sucked and pulled out every trick in the book to make Roger come. Almost too soon, the blond’s hips were twitching and he was moaning brokenly and he gave John’s hair a small tug, gasping out nonsense words that John took to mean he was coming and he took him deep in his throat, tears springing in his eyes, swallowing around him and Roger erupted, coming spilling down the back of his throat. John moaned at the feeling, sucking and swallowing Roger down with all he had. His own hand stroking over his cock before he too was coming, white stripes painting over the already dirty and stained bathroom floor. 

John gave the softening cock one last long suck as he pulled off, casting his eyes up to meet watery blue that stared down at him. Neither man said anything as John washed his hands and tucked himself back into his trousers, watching in the cracked and tarnished mirror as Roger did the same. They stared at each other in silence as guilt ate at John’s heart before Roger leaned forward and pressed a soft, loving kiss to the corner of John’s mouth, and giving him and small smile- one John had only seen him give to Brian- Roger unlocked the bathroom door and disappeared back into the library. John stared at the door for a moment before he thread his hands through his hair and doubled over, face in his hands, leaning heavily against the bathroom sink. What was he doing? What had he done? 

***

The kiss was sweet and gentle and Roger would kiss Brian all damn day if he could. The sweet taste of his boyfriend’s mouth, the wet slide of lips and tongue as they explored each other’s mouths slowly and happily, content to simply exist in this moment. It had been so long since Brian had allowed them to do more than quick chaste brushes of lips let alone anything below the belt (save that disastrous night that neither of them talked about, yet still burned in Roger’s memory). Roger wasn’t sure if he would ever get back to his comfort level with sex, he knew he couldn’t bottom and he knew that Brian wasn’t a fan of bottoming himself. That made things difficult, but he wanted to try, if only because his boyfriend made him crazy with desire

After the last disastrous attempt at sex, well attempt at bottoming for Brian really, Dr. Coleman had told him to be gentle with himself and to push only as much as he thought he could, to be open and talk to Brian about his fears and concerns, to tell him about his encounter with John. He had taken her words to heart (sort of) and had sat Brian down after dinner, John and Freddie having gone off god knows where, and had just talked, spilling his concerns, his fears, his hopes for their future both sexually and otherwise, leaving out the part about John of course, that was another conversation for another day, and Brian had listened, watching him with love in his hazel eyes. After Roger had finished Brian had taken his face in his hands and had brushed their lips together, almost chastely before pulling back, the familiar and long missed spark of desire in his eyes, before they met in the middle, hands tangling in hair, lips pressed together, tongues dancing in a long missed dance. 

Roger knew he had a decision to make, if the warmth spreading through his body was any indication. He wanted this, oh god did he want this, how he wanted to feel his boyfriend’s hands on his bare skin, how he wanted to have his boyfriend touch him and bring him pleasure and hear the noises Brian made he when gave him pleasure in return. But he didn’t know if he could, not after his touch was tainted with memories of everything that had happened, and fouled with certain expectations, and certainly not after he had the memory of the feeling of John’s kiss fresh in his mind.

He moaned low in his throat as Brian’s hands carded through his hair, teeth clacking together, large hands moving down to rest on his waist, pulling him close, leaning back so that Roger was draped practically on top of the other man. Hands drifted back up his back, cupping the back of his head, deepening the kiss. 

Roger let his own hands wander, trailing down his lover’s chest, palms pressed down as he pushed himself up. He stared down into pupil blown hazel eyes, aware for the first time he was straddling his lover’s hips, the feel of the prominent bulge pressed against his ass gave him pause, feeling panic begin to rise in his chest. “Bri,” he murmured, biting down on already kiss swollen lips, taking a few deep breaths, he really didn’t know if he could do it like this. 

A gentle hand came up to cup his cheek, thump brushing over his abused bottom lip. “I’m fine with whatever you wanna do, baby,” Brian said softly, “I love you even if we never do more than kiss again.” 

The blond let out a dramatic groan as he fell forward onto Brian’s chest, burying his face in the side of his neck and hair, smiling as the other man wrapped his arms around him to hold him in place. “I want to have sex, Brian. And I want to have sex with you, like now, but,” he bit on his lip again, shifting slightly, feeling the man tense below him as he rocked against his hard cock. 

Brian let out breath as he felt what he was sure was a lack of matching interest, he held Roger closer, dropping a kiss to his hair, believing his lover’s words over what he was -or wasn’t- feeling against his body. “The spirit is willing,” he said into cropped short blond hair, “but the body is unable?” 

The choked off laugh startled them both, even as Roger nuzzled his face deeper into Brian’s mass of curls. “Something like that yeah,” he said around another laugh, not wanting to tell Brian that it wasn’t that his body wasn’t able, he was more than able to get it up, had that afternoon in fact, for John to give him the best blow job of his life in the bathroom of the library, it was that he couldn’t get over the fact that having sex with Brian meant that Brian would be inside him and he wasn’t ready for that. 

“It’s okay, baby, you know it’s okay,” Brian said again, kissing the side of the other man’s head, breathing in the scent of stale cigarette smoke under cut with the citrus of his shampoo. “I love you and I’m not going anywhere.” 

Roger sighed, pushing himself up to meet his boyfriend’s eyes, something like hope sparking there. Maybe, maybe that could mean he could have them both. “Even if we never have sex again?” 

The fierce look in Brian’s eyes gave him pause even as the other man took his face in his hands before he spoke, “Even if we never have sex again.” 

Tears sprang in Roger’s eyes (and he thought he was past all this damn crying around Brian for fuckssake!) and he leaned down to kiss Brian, trying to put everything he wanted, no needed, to express but couldn’t in words into this one kiss. Brian kisses him back, letting the blond control the kiss, holding him steady in his lap where Roger was still straddling him. He knew Brian meant every word; he would still be here for the other man even if they never had sex again. 

After several long moments and as much feeling as Roger could put into a single kiss, he sat up, determination in his gaze. “I want to suck you off,” he said, voice sure, tone almost flat as if discussing the weather. 

Brian sighed to himself, he had a feeling this was coming. “No, Rog, you don’t need to do that, just let me hold you,” he said, letting his hands rest on the other man’s hips, thumbs rubbing circles against the exposed skin from where the blond’s shirt had ridden up slightly. 

“I want you,” Roger said, trying to move himself down so he could get at Brian’s fly to get to his still mostly hard cock. Brian caught his hands before he could touch him, hazel eyes boring into him, shaking his head slightly, face concerned. “Brian, please, it’s not fair that you have to sneak to the bathroom in the middle of the night for a wank because your asshole boyfriend won’t put out for you.” 

“Roger!” Brian’s voice came out louder than he had intended it to, “Do not say that about yourself!” 

Tears were back, pooling in blue eyes before Roger was gone from his boyfriend’s lap in a flash. The bathroom door slammed and Brian sighed to himself. Well so much for being open and communicating. He got up and followed the blond whirlwind at a more sedate pace. He tapped on the door, “Rog, talk to me, please?” 

There was a muffled noise from behind the door, before he heard the shower roar to life. He sighed. “C’mon, Rog, talk to me, don’t shut me out.” He was unsurprised by the lack of response, and simply hung his head and made his way to the kitchen. A nice cuppa would tide him over while waiting for Roger to pull himself together and actually talk to him. 

***

Roger threw himself fully clothed in the shower, scrubbing at his skin with his bare hands, wanting to wash off the feeling of filth all over him. His boyfriend said he still wanted to be with him, but he knew Brian knew he was dirty, was tainted, was broken, couldn’t even get it up except for another person broken like him. He let out a dry sob at the thought. Shit. He didn’t mean that. He didn’t. He knew he wasn’t dirty, knew John wasn’t broken. It was just his tratorious brain tell him things that weren’t true. 

He sunk to the floor of the shower and drew his knees up to his chest and wept. His mind was a mess of everything, this desire for both John and Brian all wound up in his fear and anxiety around being penetrated. He knew, intellectually, that if he said that to Brian the other man would understand, he did. But he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. So instead he let himself cry, shivering as the water ran cold and he was forced to turn it off. Staying where he was in the bottom of the tub, chin tucked against his knees, wishing John would come home and wrap him in a hug and kiss his hair and tell him it was all going to be okay. But he could never have that, he would never have John holding him, not without hurting Brian and he didn’t want to do that either. 

He swore to himself, pressing his face into his knee caps, this was awful. This was so awful. He heard the front door open and close and the soft sound of John and Brian talking from the kitchen and he whimpered. Fuck. He looked up and saw the straight razor Brian used to shave (little old man at heart, he thought fondly) even as he clamoured to his knees and reached for it, taking the handle in hand and eyeing the blade that gleamed in the bathroom light. 

He knew he shouldn’t do this, but he had read that physical pain helped emotional pain. (The voice in the back of his head told him that was bullshit.) But he still rolled up a sleeve and slid the blade across his forearm, gasping at the sudden pain, stomach rolling from the sight of red blood welling up from the cut. More tears fell, this time from the shock of the pain, and he drew another line, just above that one, thinking how glad he was that summer was ending and he could wear long sleeves without question. 

He drew two more lines on his skin, watching as blood bubbled up and then spilled down his pale skin. He had stopped crying and he honestly felt numb now. He stood on shaking legs and washed the razor off with warm soapy water, then set about cleaning the four cuts on his arm, covering them with a bandage he found in the medicine cabinet. He shivered as he realized his clothes were soaked and he knew he needed to change before he got sick. 

Roger sighed reaching for the lock on the bathroom door and he almost tripped over the pile of sleep clothes he found on the floor in front of the door. Something warm went through him as he reached down to pick them up. He didn’t know which one did this but he felt affection for them both as he slipped back into the bathroom and changed, before he left and walking right past the cracked door to his and Brian’s bedroom, curled up on the couch, pulling the honestly godawful throw blanket Freddie had picked out over him, he pressed his opposite hand to the cuts on his arm, covered by the sleeve of his hoodie, before he closed his eyes and let himself drift into what he hoped would be a dreamless sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Roger begins to self harm, he cuts himself with a razor after a moment arguing with Brian 
> 
> Anyway, there’s that, let me know what you think. Next chapter won’t be out until next week sometime, I need a hot minute away from this story.


	12. Chapter XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, not much happens tbh, they just do a lot of talking

John had turned into his quiet harbor in the storm, despite everything. He would sit in silence with Roger and the two men would just do nothing, even if that nothing often came with sly glances and not so casual touches. He would listen to Roger talk or cry or yell or rant without comment, letting the blond man get it out of his system before they lapsed back into their comfortable silences. 

It had been almost 10 months since that night. Both Brian and Freddie had gone out to classes, which left Roger and John seated at the kitchen table alone in the flat. Roger knew the other man had class later that day, knew the younger man’s schedule by heart at this point, knew this was not the right time to have this conversation but he needed to tell someone, and he couldn’t exactly talk to Brian about himself and Freddie was notoriously an awful secret keeper, and he had talked his therapist to death about it. No he needed John’s perspective on this particular problem. 

So they sat in silence, John with his face in a text took as he scribbled notes in the margins, face abordably scrunched in concentration, Roger watched him from behind his phone where he kept loosing at Candy Crush. The notification popped up that he was out of lives and he sighed, setting his phone down to just stare at the other man, watching how his grey eyes flicked across the page as he read. 

“Deacs?” He said, cringing at his too loud voice in the otherwise silent flat. 

Grey green eyes looked up from his book, pen cap clamped between slightly parted lips, hair tuffed up from where he had been running his hands through it. Roger had to stop himself from reaching out and running his own figures through John’s hair, from taking that pen cap from between those plump lips and pressing his own in its place. “Roger,” John replied around the pen cap, quirking an eyebrow in question. 

Roger blinked dumbly at him before shaking his head picking his phone back up, ignoring the way John was looking at him. The man seemed to be able to just stare into his soul and it was highly disconcerting. Had he always had this power or was it a new development that Roger was notice now that they had seen each others orgasm faces? 

They lapsed back into an easy silence, the only sound in the small kitchen the sound of John’s pen on paper and the tapping of Roger on his phone. He played Candy Crush Jelly until he ran out of lives scowling down at his phone. He set it down on the table, turning to stare at John, watching the younger man work, the tip of his tongue poked out in concentration. 

“I can’t get it up,” he said bluntly. 

He watched as John’s eyebrows almost shot off his face in surprise, his pen coming to an abrupt halt on the page, lips parting slightly, pen cap clattering to the table as it fell from his lips, as he looked up at Roger, grey green eyes wide. John cleared his throat, setting his pen down with very deliberate movements, smoothing a hand over the page of his text book before folding them in his lap, he cleared his throat again before speaking: “Okay? Today or?” 

Roger felt a flush creep up his face at his announcement. He shifted awkwardly in his chair. Shit, why did he think this would be a good idea? “Brian and I tried to have sex,” he said, unable to look at the other man who was watching him curiously, eyebrows back in their normal place on his face. 

“Okay,” John said again, tone more even and calm, “Did you have fun?” 

He felt his face flush even more. “I couldn’t get it up,” he repeated, finding the frayed hem on his t-shirt suddenly fascinating. 

John sat and watched him silently waiting for him to continue. He fidgeted more under the penetrating gaze. “I just can’t make my body cooperate, y’know? Like I want to but I just can’t, I kept thinking about you,” he said all in a rush, glancing up to see John nodding thoughtfully. 

“And what did Brian say?” John asked, voice soft, firmly ignoring that last part of Roger’s outburst. 

Roger groaned and let his head fall down into the kitchen table next to his phone. He knew Deacy would be clinical about this, that’s why he wanted to talk to him, but fuck this was embarrassing. “He said he didn’t care, about the not having sexual thing, didn’t tell him about the other thing,” he mumbled. 

He more heard than saw John shrug at him. “So, you are upset why?” John asked, tone just as even if they were discussing the weather and not Roger’s inability to get an erection when wanting to fuck his boyfriend but was always ready to go when he and John went at it. 

He groaned again, twisting so he could stare at the other man, cheek pressed against the cool table top. “Because I would like to have sex with my boyfriend, John. And I can’t fucking get an erection even when he’s touching me!” Roger knew he was being dramatic but he didn’t care. 

“Why?” John asked, raising a single eyebrow at him, “why do you think that is?” 

“Now you sound like my shrink,” Roger groused. 

“Well, it’s a legitimate question.” John leaned back in his chair, steepling his long fingers together, raising the other eyebrow to match, “Roger, you have experienced trauma, and you are still healing from it emotionally and mentally, and as much as you like to claim you are fine or ‘doing better’ you are still healing.” Fuck why did John have to make so much sense. “Maybe there are just too many memories associated with sex that you haven’t addressed yet that need to be addressed.” 

Roger let out a sigh, turn his head back so his forehead rested against the tabletop so that he didn’t have to look at the other man who was still studying him from over the top of his steepled fingers. “Maybe,” he conceded, “But that doesn’t explain why I can with you.” 

John stared at him unblinkingly for a long moment, “Maybe the memories aren’t associated with sex itself but with sex with a particular person?” John posited, shrugging. There was silence for a moment before John sighed as well, “It takes time. But you and Brian will get somewhere where you are both comfortable and happy, I’m sure.” 

What if I don’t know if I want to?! Roger wanted to scream at the other man but held his tongue. They sat in silence again, longer this time before John spoke up. “I hate to leave this like it is but I have class,” he said, and Roger could hear him gathering his things. “It’s going to be okay, Rog. We can talk more tonight if you want when I get back from class, yeah?” 

Roger nodded miserably against the tabletop and felt a shiver go down his spine as John touched his shoulder, hand warm through the fabric pinky finger brushing just barely against bare skin. John brushed a barely there kiss to Roger’s upturned cheek as if an afterthought. Something hot and visceral went through Roger and he sat very still as he listened to John find the rest of his stuff and leave the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. Very slowly he sat back in his chair, glaring down at his lap where his cock had taken a sudden interest in the all too brief touch. 

“Fuck,” he grumbled, glaring down at his lap where his obnoxiously picky cock had begun to take interest. He pressed the heel of his hand to the half hard shaft while pinching the bridge of his nose. That conversation could have gone better. And he could be a better human by not getting turned on at the slightest touch of his illicit lover. Absently the fingers on his face found their way to the covered cuts on his forearm and he picked at the scabs, wrinkling his nose as the sharp pain blossomed up her finger tips. It might be time to refresh those a little. Roger shook himself and reached for his phone again, tapping through to find another mindless game to play. 

***

As John fled the apartment he had shot a pleading text to the only person he could think of that he could talk to: Freddie. The older man had replied within moments telling him to meet him at the little cafe around from the building his class was in and to be ready to tell him all his problems. Not that John wasn’t bursting at the seams to talk about this with someone, anyone! He spent the whole of his class absorbed in his own problems, barely paying attention, thinking it was a good thing he had sat in the back row today so the professor couldn’t see just how unfocused he was. 

When the dismissal came John had grabbed his book and bag and had all but sprinted out of the lecture hall. His head was so full of everything he couldn't breathe and the windowless lecture hall left him feeling claustrophobic and stifled and he needed to get out  _ now.  _ He tore down the steps of the university building and down the sidewalk, his pace slowing to a walk as he neared the cafe and he stopped, doubles over, trying to catching his breath. He could feel a panic attack coming on and he sucked in deep breath after deep breath but found no relief. 

“John?” A familiar voice came from somewhere in front of him and he glanced up to see a familiar blurry outline. He blinked rapidly and realized he was blurry because John was crying. 

“Freddie,” he whimpered as a strong hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, leading him toward the cafe, where he was lowered into one of the outdoor seating chairs. The weather had broken and it was cool enough that they weren’t being used. 

“John, breathe with me, darling, just breathe,” Freddie’s voice was calming and soothing and everything John needed in this moment and he leaned forward wrapping his arms around Freddie’s neck and pressed his face into the soft scarf wound around the singer’s throat. Freddie held him and smoothed his hand up and down John’s back, whispered nonsense to him as John tried to catch his breath. 

It took several long minutes before John sat back, feeling like he wouldn’t be upset if the earth opened up and swallowed him whole. He met the warm brown of Freddie’s concerned gaze, heart pounding in his chest, unable to stop himself from blurting out exactly what was on his mind: “Roger and I have been having sex.” 

Freddie blinked at him slowly for a minute and John felt panic creep up his spine again and covered his face with both hands praying that the earth would just open up and swallow him. Freddie’s voice was soft when he spoke, “Does Brian know?” 

John shook his head miserably, “No. what am I doing Freddie? I’m fucking everything up.” 

The singer made a thoughtful noise, rising from where he was still kneeling before John to perch on the chair next to him instead. “How did this happen?” He asked softly again, eyes just as warm as they had been before John had blurted out his deep dark secret. 

John stared at him for a moment before he sighed, folding his hands in his lap. “He kissed me and I didn’t say no, and haven’t been able to say no since we started,” John mumbled staring down at his hands. Silence stretched between them and John couldn’t stop fidgeting. “Freddie, I’m fucking this all up!” He cried, tangling his fingers in his own hair and pulling, doubling over, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened. 

A warm hand came to rest on his back again and Freddie just made soothing noises at him while he gasped for air between his sobs. What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t had a panic attack in years, not like this at least, and here he was, doubled over unable to even breathe properly, and for what? His complicated bullshit attachment to a guy who already had a boyfriend. No, Roger wasn’t just some guy. He was his best friend, who he had had a slight crush on from the beginning, and now that they were doing what they were doing, and knowing that Brian was in the dark, made everything absolutely terrible. 

“Does Blondie know how you feel about him, darling?” Freddie’s voice cut through the panicked thoughts and John managed to look up at the singer. 

“Whatdaya mean?” He mumbled, already knowing what Freddie meant but unable to acknowledge it. 

Brown eyes narrowed slightly at him. “Does he know you are in love with him?” He asked slowly, and in a no nonsense way that John rarely heard from the other man. 

John made a pathetically miserable noise. “No,” he moaned, pressing his face back into the hands, praying once more that the world would open up and swallow him whole. “No, Freddie, but I do, shit I do, so much.” 

The hand started its rubbing again and Freddie made more comforting noises at him and John just whimpered pathetically. “Darling, have you thought about telling him?” Freddie said quietly. 

John sat up and met the singer’s worries gaze. He laughed mirthlessly. “He’s having enough trouble deciding if he should tell Brian about our activities or not, why make it harder?” He scoffed. 

Freddie pursed his lips slightly. “I don’t know much about the affairs of the heart, lovie, but I somehow think it might make his decision easier if he had all the facts,” he posited softly, giving John a look that the younger man couldn’t decipher. John just made another sad noise as he shook his head. 

“No, I can’t, he doesn’t need to know, god, that just makes it so complicated. If he feels better when we...when we have sex then why should I screw with that? He’s healing,” John spoke, his voice trembling, words not at all as convincing as they would have been otherwise. 

The singer just gave him a sad smile and sad nothing as John tried to convince himself that what he said was true.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmkay, more will happen next chapter. Let me know what you think.


	13. Chapter XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have no idea what happened to the POV when I was writing this but I’m too damn lazy to go back and fix it so just ignore the weird shifts. 
> 
> Oh, and there is smut ahead, you’ve been warned.

It was a familiar scene, Roger perched on his favorite rickety chair around the scared kitchen table, the one with the unbalanced leg that he could rock back and forth in just to piss off the others with the noise the chair legs made as they hit the linoleum kitchen floor. John was also sitting in his favorite chair, though more by placement than by the actual chair. Both men were absorbed in their respective work, Roger chewing on his pen as he read for class, trying to make heads or tails of this organic chemistry stuff, while John seemed absorbed in tapping away on his laptop, eyes darting across the screen as his long fingers flew across the keyboard. 

A few hours ago Brian had poked his head into the kitchen, announced he was off to his parents for the weekend, and having dropped a perfunctory kiss to Roger’s offered cheek, had headed out. And seeing as it was a Friday night Freddie was humming his way through getting ready for a hot date with Jim while hogging the bathroom. Roger tried not to give up on his reading, seeing as it was indeed a Friday night, but the desire to be in the same room with John won out over his desire to slack off, so here he sat, staring at the page before him, the words and diagrams swimming. 

“I’m off, darlings! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Freddie announced as he swept into the kitchen, giving John a long look that Roger couldn’t decipher before he grabbed the bottle of wine that had been hidden in the back of the refrigerator, before giving Roger an equally long look. Seemingly satisfied he had stared at them both sufficiently he swept from the kitchen and it wasn’t a handful of moments later they heard the front door open and close, the lock clicking behind the singer’s flashy exit. 

They continued to sit in silence, now alone in the flat and with each moment the tension grew between them. Roger kept stealing glances at John who seemed to still be completely focused on his task. Until he wasn’t that was, and Roger almost gasped in shock as grey green eyes suddenly met his. 

“You hungry?” John asked quietly, closing his laptop lid, “I’m hungry. Wanna order in or go out?” 

Roger blinked at him dumbly for a minute, laying his pen down in the crease of his text book. “Uh, we can order in if you want,” he finally said, not looking away from John’s penetrating stare. Something flickered in that gaze and John reached for his phone. 

“Sushi sound good?” he asked just as quietly as before, breaking his stare, looking down at his phone, presumably to put up a food ordering app. 

“Sure, yeah, sounds good.” To say that Roger was confused would be an understatement. John was acting weird and he didn’t know what to say or do to get the younger man to stop acting weird. John just nodded at his answer and tapped a few things on his phone. 

“From that place up the street?” he asked, not looking up, staring intently at his phone as he scrolled through whatever it was he was looking at. 

Roger didn’t respond, just watched him for a long minute as silence stretched between them. John must have felt him staring because he looked up, little endearing crease between his eyebrows as he frowned at him. “What are we doing?” Roger spoke softly, knowing he looked as sad and confused as he felt. 

John frowned at him, setting his phone aside. “Well right now, we are ordering sushi, or at least I’m trying to but I need to know where from and what you want,” John snarked back, raising an eyebrow at him. 

So that’s how it was going to be then? Okay, fine, Roger could deal with that. “Yeah, that place up the street is fine, and whatever is fine,” Roger mumbled back, looking away from John’s gaze. He heard the other man sigh and suddenly Roger had one of his hands under one of John’s big hands, and Roger snapped his head up to look at the other man. 

“Rog, I,” John hesitated for a second before he gave Roger’s hand a squeeze, “Let’s just eat dinner, yeah?” 

Roger searched the other man’s face for a long moment, before he gave the other man a soft smile, “Yeah, okay.” 

Few words were exchanged as John ordered sushi, silence stretched between them before the delivery person arrived, and they even ate mostly in silence, Roger fighting back a lump in his throat with each bite. He loved sushi, but tonight his roll tasted like ash in his mouth. This was the first time they had been alone in the flat together since they had started whatever they had started and Roger could hear his heart pounding in his ears. 

When John had finished his food and had stood to take his trash to the bin Roger moved before his brain had a chance to catch up. The empty take away container clattered to the floor as Roger pressed his lips to John’s, crowding him back against the kitchen counter. John gasped into the kiss, hands coming up to rest on Roger’s shoulders, not pushing him away but not encouraging either. 

“Rog,” John breathed when Roger pulled away to catch his breath. 

“Deacy, John, tell me you want this,” Roger pleaded, leaning in to press another hard kiss to John’s lips. John practically melted into his touch, parting his lips, sighing into the kiss. Roger’s hands reached down to cup John’s ass through his jeans and John moaned, fingers tightening against Roger’s shoulders. 

It seemed to take the other man tremendous effort to break the kiss. “Roger, wait, we shouldn’t,” he mumbled, closing his eyes against the feeling of Roger pressing kisses down his face. 

“You say that every time,” Roger said between kisses. 

“Rog,” John bit out in the middle of a moan as Roger nibbled at a spot on his neck that always seemed to get him. 

“And yet here we are. John,” Roger breathed again soft skin, “We have all night, let me make you feel good.” 

Roger could practically see the wheels turning in John’s head as the blond leaned back to study the other man’s face. John look conflicted, staring at him with his sad grey eyes, chewing on his kiss bitten lower lip. Something seemed to break in the younger man because he surged forward and captured Roger’s lips in a bruising kiss. “Take me to bed, Roger,” he mumbled against his lips, tangling a slender hand in Roger’s messy hair, pulling just the way the blond liked it. 

It was like they were moving in slow motion after that, stumbling towards John’s bedroom, never breaking the kiss for longer than a few seconds to tug shirts over their heads, leaving clothes piled on John’s bedroom floor, the door shut tightly behind them. In this space Roger could forget that what they were about to do was wrong, he could forget his anxieties, well some of them, and he could just feel. The back of John’s knees hit the edge of the bed and the younger man flopped down with a barely audible grunt, Roger leaning down, pushing him back so he was sprawled out on the bed. 

“Look at you,” Roger murmured, trailing a hand down John’s bare chest. Of all the times they had gotten each other off in random places, he had never once gotten John shirtless, except for that one time in the bathroom but that didn’t count, not really, he hadn’t been allowed to touch. “Look at you,” he repeated, tweaking a nipple between two fingers, watching as John’s face twisted with pleasure and a fine flush colored his skin. 

Grey eyes closed in pleasure as Roger leaned down and sucked that nipple into his mouth, running his tongue around to pert bud, making John gasp, his hands fisting in the dark grey duvet cover. “Roger, please, ah shit, please,” John panted out, hips arching up as Roger climbed into the bed to kneel next to him, his other hand come up to tease his other nipple. 

The room was filled with John’s bitten off pleas and moans and Roger was so hard in his jeans he could barely stand it. He smoothed a hand down John’s flat tummy to the top hem of his jeans and with a broken “Please” from John, he deftly popped the button and pulled the zipper down and got his hand inside John’s trousers and boxer briefs to wrap around the man’s hard cock. 

“Oh fuck!” John gasped, back arching prettily as Roger kept sucking at his nipple hand on his cock, the long line of John’s exposed neck straining and making him even more beautiful than he was before. 

Roger kept teasing his nipple with his teeth and tongue, roughly stroking John’s cock setting a brutal pace until the younger man gasped, head flailing back and forth in the bed. “Wait, Rog! Wait fuck please wait,” John panted, body going tense. 

Grey eyes blinked open and met his and Roger froze, pulling away from John, his own eyes big, heart pounding in his chest. A soft smile crossed John’s face. “That wasn’t a stop, that was a I want you inside me before I come,” John said softly, face going red from his bluntness. 

Roger felt his mouth go dry at John’s words. Did he really mean that? “You,” Roger swallowed hard, looking at John trying to decipher the soft look on John’s face. He apparently hadn’t thought this all the way through. “You want me to fuck you?” He finally settled on asking despite the way his voice trembled ever so slightly. 

John gave him a slightly indulgent smile. “I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t want you to,” he snarked back, rolling his eyes as Roger kept staring at him. “Please, Roger, put your cock inside me.” 

The noise that left Roger’s lips could only be considered a laugh. He shook his head fondly at the younger man sprawled bare on the bed, flush of his desire high on his cheeks, and leaned down to press a kiss to John’s wet slightly parted lips. The kiss turned heated, John’s tongue darting out to tangle with Roger’s and both men moaned into the kiss, John’s hands coming down to rest on Roger’s hips where he still wore his jeans. 

Trying desperately not to break the kiss, Roger reached down to pop the button on his own jeans. Trying to wiggle out of them while still kneeling on the bed next to John proved impossible, so he stood, shoving both jeans and boxers down his legs in one go, standing before John fully naked for the first time. He felt himself flush as grey eyes danced over his bare skin. John sat up on the bed and reached out a slightly trembling hand to ghost his calloused fingertips down Roger’s belly. 

“God, you are so handsome,” John breathed, eyes snapping up to meet Roger’s his hand curling contently around Roger’s hip. Roger felt himself flush even further at those words, glad that the other man had not yet noticed the cuts in various stages of healing that littered his body. 

“I could say the same about you,” He said back, giving John a soft smile as he kicked his clothes away to some unknown corner of the room. “Lube?” he asked softly, “Condoms?” 

John beamed up at him, eyes going bright in anticipation, “Nightstand, top drawer.” 

Roger shook his head fondly as he pulled out a mostly empty bottom of lube, spying a large realistic looking dildo tucked away in the drawer half hidden behind a box of condoms. “You naughty thing,” Roger teased, “Do you think of me when you use that on yourself?” he asked, gesturing to the dildo, a smirk on his lips as he crawled back up the bed to settle himself next to John who had laid back out on his back. 

“Maybe,” John replied coyly, closing his eyes, breath hitching as Roger snapped the lube cap open with a  _ snick _ . “To be honest, I mostly think of Freddie with his immodesty, it is rather easy to picture what his cock would look like since I’m pretty sure we’ve all seen it just as much as Jim has.”  

Roger blinked at him for a moment before he burst out laughing again, “John Deacon, you are horrible!” 

John just shrugged. “Maybe,” he said again and bit his lip as Roger slicked up two fingers and pressed them both against his hole. He spread his legs and drew his knees up so his feet were flat in the bed, scrunching his face up adorably as Roger teased around his hole. 

“You sure you want this?” Roger asked softly, face and tone going suddenly serious. He didn’t want to hurt the younger man, didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in anyway. 

Grey eyes rolled open and John reached up to grab Roger’s face, pulling him down for a heated kiss. “I’ve wanted this since you kissed me in the library all those long weeks ago,” John whispered against his lips. Roger blinked at him for half a second before his fingers, that had still been teasing around John’s hole, pushed inside. The younger man gasped as two of Roger’s fingers, thicker than his own, stretched him. 

Roger was careful in pressing his fingers forward, crooking them just so, pads of his fingers brushing along John’s inner walls, searching for his prostate. The whole body shudder and moan told him he found it and he kept massage the spongy spot inside John watching as the younger man writhed in the bed, head tossed back, eyes half lidded, long line of his pale neck flushed pink with his pleasure.

“Rog, Roger, oh god, oh, oh,” John flailed his hand down to reach for Roger’s free hand. The blonde captured his lover’s hand and interlaced their fingers, loving the feeling of being so connected to John. 

“Want another one baby?” Roger asked in a whisper, pressing a kiss to the side of John’s bent knee. Grey green eyes snapped open and John looked down at him where he knelt between the younger man’s legs. 

“Your cock,” John bit out between noises of pleasure as Roger never stopped massaging his prostate. 

Roger teases a third finger at his lover’s rim, making the other man twitch and moan gasping out his plea for Roger to just “Fuck me already!” Roger chuckled, pressing another kiss to John’s knee. “So needy,” he teased, drawing his fingers out to apply more lube to them, “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby, wanna make you feel good, one more finger, make sure you’re nice and open for me.” 

John moaned long and loud as Roger pushed back in with three fingers, stretching and twisting, thrusting in and out, fingertips brushing his prostate with almost every twist. He trembled and shook around Roger’s fingers and Roger knee he was close. “Roger, p-please, I need you, god, I need you,” John sobbed, clenching around Roger’s fingers needing more. 

“Okay, yeah okay,” Roger panted our seeming pretty far gone himself as he gently pulled his fingers from the younger man and grabbed a condom. Carefully, he ripped the foil package open with his teeth and rolled the latex down his length before applying more lube to himself. “Okay,” he said again, taking John’s legs and throwing them over his shoulders, pressing the tip of his cock to John’s fluttering hole. John hooked his ankles around the back in Roger’s neck and shook his ass as much as he could in his lying position, wagging his eyebrows at Roger in a playful manner. Both men chuckled for a moment before their laughter was cut off by low moans from them both as Roger pushed forward, head breaching John’s tight ring of muscle. 

“Oh, fuck,” John gasped out, head falling back, mouth open in his pleasure, eyes closing. “Fuck.” 

Roger closed his own eyes as he pushed forward, John tight and hot around his cock. God it had been so long since he had fucked someone. He had missed this so much. “John,” he breathed as he bottomed out, hips resting flush to John’s ass. “You feel so amazing, fucking Hell.” 

Grey eyes snapped open and John surged up to capture Roger’s lips in a heated kiss. “Fuck me,” he demanded into the kiss, and then gasped as Roger began to move, hips pistoning in and out like a well oiled machine. John moaned and moaned, bent basically in half, helpless to do anything but claw at Roger’s back with his blunt nails, toes curling and flexing as Roger found his prostate again and again. 

“Oh fuck, John, I’m, shit, I’m not gonna last,” Roger gasped, feeling his body tingling, his balls tightening, the warm heat of John’s body wrapped around him like a vice. It was all becoming too much. 

John moaned at those words, threading his fingers in Roger’s hair. “Come for me, Roger, come inside me,” he murmured, and Roger moaned, reaching a hand between them, taking John’s neglected cock in hand, fingers deft at stroking him off at this point. 

Surprisingly it was John who came first, the hand on his cock twisting on an upstroke as the head of Roger’s cock inside him nailed his prostate and he screamed when he came, body tensing around Roger’s cock before he went limp in the blond’s arms, come painting his own belly and Roger’s hand and belly as well. Roger’s steady rhythm faltered and he too came with a shout, shooting off into the condom, thrusting a few more times into John’s pliant body. 

“Oh fuck,” Roger sighed happily, turning his head to press a kiss to the side of John’s knee before he slowly pulled out of the wincing younger man. 

He was about to express his conconcern when John waved him away. “Not a fan of overstimulation,” he murmured, allowing Roger to help him lower his tingling legs back to the bed. The blond smiled in acknowledgment before his deft fingers started massaging the aching muscles. 

“I’ll be right back,” Roger said softly, leaning up to press a kiss to John’s lips before slipping off the bed, removing the condom carefully and carrying it with him. 

John leaned back against the bed and sighed, closing his eyes, stretching already sore muscles. It had been a while since he’d had a good shag. Roger came back with a damp cloth clutched in his hand and he made quick work of wiping John down before he tossed the cloth towards the open laundry hamper. 

The blond flopped down next to John and sighed happily. “Well,” he said, turning to give John a saucy grin, “Let’s do that again.” John simply smiled back and him and rolled over to wrap his arms around the sleepy blond. Roger closed his eyes contentedly and snuggled closer, feeling himself drift even as John’s long clever fingers ghosted over the healing cuts on his arms. 

“Oh, Roger,” John whispered brokenly, but the blond was already too far gone in sleep to reply. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that hole Roger is digging, I think it just got a bit deeper. Any and all typos are mine, I’m too lazy to edit.


	14. Chapter XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for this being so late! Life got in the way as it’s wont to do. Anyway, here’s a long chapter to make up for it. Only a few more to go, now lovies.

Roger woke warm and content wrapped in a pair of arms, his face smushed to the side of a strong yet slender chest, his fingers buried in the slight beginnings of chest hair. He frowned to himself, it wasn’t Brian he was cuddled up to, hadn’t been cuddled up to the other man for a while come to think of it. It wasn’t until the familiar smell of sex met his nose and he felt the dull ache in his body from his excertion last night that he remembered where he was. And he sighed and his frown became a soft smile and he nuzzled up against John closer. 

The younger man chuckled, the noise rumbled through his chest, Roger feeling it more than hearing. So he was awake. Fingers carded through his wild hair and if he could purr like a big cat he would. 

“Good morning,” John spoke softly, his deft gentle fingers stopping to untangle a knot before they continued in their soothing motion. 

Roger made a noise of contentment back at him, smushing his face more against the warm bare chest under his cheek, and he sighed through half parted lips. John jumped slightly and another chuckle rumbled through his body. 

“Want tea?” John asked, though made no movement to pull away from Roger, in fact his arms tightened around him. Roger shook his head against John’s chest, squeezing his eyes closed. Leaving this bed would mean they would have to face the world and what they did last night. And Roger didn’t know if he was strong enough to face the world, even if John held his hand through it all. 

“Stay,” he mumbled, word almost lost against John’s skin, and he pressed himself more against John if that were possible. He couldn’t stop from rocking his morning wood against the side of John’s thigh, and he pressed his face into the sparse patch of hair on John’s chest in almost embarrassment. 

“Always,” John replied, wrapping his arms tighter around him, on hand coming down to rest on the small of his back, gently encouraging Roger to rock against him. 

Roger panted out little desperate breaths as he rutted against John’s leg, eyes closed tightly against the feeling. He pressed his face more against John’s bare chest, loving the feeling of John’s fingers digging into his lower back. John was making soft noises above him, as if he was just as affected by Roger rutting against him as Roger was. Roger a little desperately trailed his hand down John’s chest and found the other man’s hard already leaking cock. 

“Oh, Roger,” John gasped, arching up into Roger’s touch, pulling the other man closer, letting Roger continue to rut against him, smearing precome all over his thigh. 

“Touch me,” Roger gasped out, moaning as John manhandled him over onto his back, pressing his lips against his in a hard kiss. Roger let go of John’s cock to tangle his fingers in the other man’s short hair, half aware of the sound of the bottle of lube snapping open and John gasping into his mouth as one of his hands disappeared behind himself. 

The world whited out when John took Roger’s cock in hand finally, shifting himself up so he was kneeling above his cock, and Roger grasped at John’s hips as the younger man sank down onto his cock. “Oh, fuck, John,” Roger moaned, staring up into those slitted grey green eyes, gritting his teeth as John sank slowly down onto him until he was fully seated in Roger’s lap. 

“Oh, so good,” John moaned, leaning forward to press his lips to Roger’s, rocking gently in Roger’s lap, his cock rubbing against Rogers’s belly with each rock. 

Roger clutched at John’s hips as the younger man rocked in his lap, trying desperately to not buck up into him, the feeling of John tight around his cock making his brain all fuzzy. He sat up slightly, thrusting one hand into John’s hair, pulling him close, the angle changing making John gasp into the hard kiss. The rocking changed to bouncing and John’s cock rubbed against his belly with every bounce, smearing the younger man’s precome all over Roger. 

“Please,” John moaned out and Roger tugged at his hair slightly before using that hand to reach between them and take his cock in hand. The noise John made was more scream than moan as he clenched around Roger’s cock his movements speeding up. 

“I’m close,” Roger panted out, bucking his hips up, “Oh fuck I’m close.” 

John places the palm of his hand flag on Roger’s chest and used him for leverage, staring down into his eyes, pupil blown grey green eyes wide. “Yes, come, come inside me,” John moaned, his rhythm speeding up, clenching around Roger’s cock each time he sank down. Roger matched the rhythm as best he could stroking John’s cock in time, smearing precome up and down the hard shaft, making John twitch and moan. 

It only took a handful of moments before Roger was coming, calling out John’s name, eyes rolling back in his head as he came, buried deep inside John. John cried out wordlessly as he clenched around Roger’s cock inside him and came painting Roger’s hand and belly and chest with his hot come. 

Roger held John where he had collapsed against him, hands clutching at his sweaty back both breathing hard. John was pressing little kisses to all the skin on Roger’s neck and shoulders he could reach. Both lay in silence for several long heartbeats as they caught their breath. “Wow,” John breathed softly, shifting off of Roger, pulling a face as he flopped over to lay next to him. “Yuck,” he commented, wrinkling his nose. 

“You okay?” Roger rolled his head lazily over to look at John who just rolled his eyes at him. 

“I need to go clean up,” John said, but made no motion to move, and Roger felt his face heat. They hadn’t used a condom and he’d just come inside John. 

“Sorry about that,” he said softly, eyes fluttering shut as he felt heat steal up his face. 

John pressed a kiss to his lips. “No you aren’t,” he teased as he heaved himself off the bed and Roger couldn’t help but watch him leave, catching a glimpse of dampness down the back of his thighs where his come of leaking from him. 

Roger sighed and sank back against the soft mattress. The blankets smelled like John, and something fluttered in his belly. This has been incredible, being able to feel connected to someone, be with them physically, was something he had missed. A pang of guilt him and he closed his eyes and stretched frowning slightly. He needed to talk to Brian, needed to tell him what was happening, but he didn’t want to let this thing go with John.  But he also didn’t want to lose Brian. Frustration welled in his chest and he wanted to scream and tear his hair out. 

A gentle warm hand on his shin made him snap his eyes open and he met the shining grey green eyes of the man he was pretty sure he was falling for. John was holding a damn cloth and he raised an eyebrow in question, giving Roger a smile when the blond nodded and set to work wiping him down, cleaning the cooling come off his belly. As Roger watched him, something warm settled in his chest, pushing away the frustration and the doubt and the fear, and he made grabby hands at John as soon as the younger man was done. His gentle laughter was infectious as he tossed the soiled cloth towards his laundry bin and crawled back to lay next to Roger. 

John laid his head on Roger’s chest, letting the blond wrap his arms around him and hold him close. Both men relaxed against each other as Roger traced nonsense patterns on John’s skin, the younger man huffing out gentle laughter every time the blond found a particularly ticklish place. They lay together for so long that Roger was sure that John had fallen back asleep until the younger man spoke. 

“I want you to know that I understand,” John said softly, his words vague and ambiguous and they made Roger frown. 

“Understand what?” The blond asked, eyebrows drawn together as he stared down at the top of John’s head that was resting against his bare chest. 

There was a moment of hesitation before John spoke again. “I was sixteen,” he started softly, “and stupid and I didn’t think anything was wrong with the vicar taking an interest in me.” Something cold settle in Roger’s chest as he listened to the hollowness in John’s voice. “Until he grabbed me and bent me over his desk in the church office and when he was done told me to never tell anyone.” 

The words hung in the air for a long tense moment. John sat up, hands fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. He refused to look at Roger. “I guess it’s not exactly the same, but I can understand,” he finished softly and Roger wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or go hunt down this so called man of god and kill him. Instead he settled for wrapping the younger man in his arms, pulling him close in a warm embrace. 

“I’m so sorry, Deacy,” he whispered, pressing his face against John’s shoulder, breathing in the warm smell of the other man. 

John all but koala’d himself around Roger, wrapping arms and legs around the blond, seeming to not ever want to let go. And if Roger heard soft sniffling from the other man he would never say a word to anyone. They held each other for many long minutes, their heart beats synchronizing like they did when they played, breathing in unison, feeling even more connected to each other than they had having sex. Until Roger’s stomach made a loud noise, announcing to the world that he was hungry and it was not to be ignored anymore. 

The younger man giggled almost helplessly, his face pressed to Roger’s shoulder still, his body shaking in Roger’s arms as he giggled. Grey green eyes were sparkling when John looked up at him. “Want pancakes?” He asked softly, “I think there should be enough milk to make a batch.” 

Roger beamed at him. “I’ll help,” he offered. 

John shook his head, already working to untangle himself from the drummer. “You’ll sit at the kitchen table and watch,” he said with mock exasperation, “Last time you got near the stove you caught a kitchen towel on fire!” 

“That wasn’t my fault!” Roger protested, following John’s lead and finding his boxers and T-shirt from last night, “We both know that that was absolutely Freddie’s fault!” 

The younger man eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “I saw the Snapchat video, it was all you, babe,” he finally said, leaning in to peck Roger softly on the lips before he all but bounced out of the room to the kitchen. 

Roger blinked for a moment, a small smile on his face, as he touched his lips gently where John had pressed the sweetest of kisses. He was so fucking screwed. He shook his head and followed the other man towards the kitchen. 

He perched himself on his favorite kitchen table chair and watched as John worked at the counter, whisking and mixing and cooking and all sorts of things until a delicious smell filled the small kitchen. It made Roger’s stomach grumble again and he was practically drooling by the time John set a large stack of pancakes before him and another stack before himself. 

It was companionable silence, not awkward or uncomfortable and Roger was content to let it be, happy to drench his homemade pancakes in syrup and stuff himself. But it seemed John wasn’t as content with the silence. The younger man ate a few bite before he sat there staring down at his plate fidgeting with his fork. 

“We need to tell him,” the younger man said suddenly and suddenly all the pancakes Roger had eaten felt like lead in his stomach. 

He stared long and hard at John before he sighed and set his own fork down. “I know,” he said softly, looking away from those intense grey green eyes. 

John reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. “We can do it together if you want,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. 

Roger looked up at him sharply, studying the other man’s face for a long moment. Grey green eyes were filled with something Roger couldn’t name and it made him swallow hard. “I can do it,” he replied, frowning slightly, “I need to do it.” 

The only reply he got was John giving his fingers another tight squeeze before he released his hand and they both went back to their breakfast. 

***

Sunday night found Brian exhausted and wanting nothing more than to walk into the flat and crawl into his bed with his boyfriend and hold him close and fall asleep with Roger’s hair in his face. He blinked back stupid tears as he knew that wasn’t going to happen, not until they had a long conversation at least. His mum had given him all the advice she could on how to deal with the situation he currently found himself in, but he had a feeling that no matter how hard he tried he and Roger were just drifting apart. 

The flat was silent when he pushed the door open with a small sigh of relief. Until he rounded the corner and spied a blond head over the top of the couch. His heart clenched in his chest painfully as he took in the sight before him. Roger and John were laying on the couch, both asleep, tangled together in boxers and T-shirts, John’s head resting on Roger’s chest, Roger’s hand in John’s hair. His heart clench even more when he realized that John was wearing one of Roger’s shirts. 

He closed his eyes and willed himself not to cry as he backed slowly out of the living room and made his way slowly towards his bedroom. He hadn’t wanted to think that Roger would turn from him like this, hadn’t wanted to believe it, had been so sure it couldn’t be true, but he knew there was no other explanation for what he had just seen, not with all the other signs. 

Slowly he set his weekend bag aside and stripped down, leaving the lights off, and crawled under the cold sheets, pulling what used to be Roger’s pillow close to him. He clutched the pillow to his face as he lay facing away from the door and he let his silent tears fall. He wanted to get it out tonight and then confront Roger in the morning. It was time they got it all out in the open anyway. 

“Brimi?” 

Brian felt himself tense at the soft sound of Roger’s sleepy voice. He made a soft noise in reply and curled more in on himself. He felt the bed dip slightly as Roger seemed to hesitantly crawl into the bed. He knew he was tense and that Roger could feel it under his palm as a gentle hand touched his shoulder. 

“You have a good time at your parents?” Roger’s voice was soft and scratchy with sleep and Brian just made another soft noise. 

He felt Roger lay down next to him and press himself against his back. He squeezed his eyes shut as he was surrounded by the once familiar smell of his boyfriend. It had been so long since they had been like this. 

“I’m glad you’re home, Brimi,” Roger said, his breath warm against the back of Brian’s neck, where he had pressed his face into Brian’s curls. 

Brian held himself still, barely daring to breathe, feeling the way Roger had molded himself against Brian’s back, pressed flush against him. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering if this is how Roger and John slept, what John could do for Roger that Brian couldn’t. As he felt Roger shift closer he suddenly realized. Perhaps John was a more willing bottom than Brian was, perhaps it was that dynamic that prevented Roger from wanting to be with Brian. 

“Roger?” He said his voice cracking from his sudden overwhelming emotion. 

“Hmm?” Roger hummed into his hair, nuzzling against him. 

“Would you fuck me?” Brian said bluntly, squeezing his eyes closed feeling anxiety filling him even as the words left his mouth. 

Behind him Roger sat up and he could practically feel the force of his frown. “What?” 

Brian didn’t move, just clutched the pillow closer to himself. “Would you take me? Maybe, maybe that will, will help us? I don’t know, I did some thinking and maybe we should try it,” he said softly, squeezing his eyes closed, he didn’t even know why he was even bothering with this. 

“You hate taking it, Brimi,” Roger’s voice was fragile even as the hand on his shoulder was warm and firm. 

“I do,” Brian agreed, finally forcing himself to roll over to look at his boyfriend, who was staring at him in the half light of the bedroom with those big blue eyes his hair sticking up in all directions, “But I love you, and I want to try it.” 

Those blue eyes searched his face for a moment before Roger gave him a small smile. “I love you too,” he said gently, tracing a finger down his face. Brian closed his eyes more at the words than the feeling of Roger’s hand on his face.  _ If you loved me why are you sleeping with someone else? _ He wanted to ask but instead reached up to pull Roger down for a soft kiss. 

There was something sad in the kiss, something missing that had been missing for a while now between them. But when Roger’s tongue slipped past his open lips he felt himself growing hard in his boxers. He left Roger kiss him and spread his legs willingly as Roger knelt between them. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the other man’s face as he shed his own clothes and then helped Brian out of his. He shivered at the way Roger’s hands felt against his bare skin. 

He shivered in the cool air of the bedroom when Roger pulled away to reach for the bottle of lube he still kept in the bedside drawer. It was dusty with disuse, but it didn’t seem to bother Roger who seemed to make quick work of slicking up a finger. Brian squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to relax at the feeling of Roger’s finger at his entrance. He hadn’t been touched like this in so very long. But he wanted it, he needed it, wanted to show Roger that he didn’t have to go to someone else for this, that Brian could give him what he needed. 

“Hey, Bri, look at me,” Roger’s voice seemed to come from far away, and Brian had to force his eyes to open to stare into Roger’s shining blue ones. “Are you sure you want to do this?” 

“Please,” was all he could choke out, and he saw Roger frown before he felt that finger push into him, and he inhaled sharply at the feeling. He forced himself to keep staring into Roger’s eyes as the younger man twisted and thrust his finger in and out of him. More lube was added and a second finger pushed in and Brian felt like he was going to burst apart at the seams. 

Roger’s free hand cupped his face gently and Brian couldn’t help but nuzzle against the palm, forcing himself from wondering if Roger was this gentle with John when they slept together. “Okay?” he asked gently, thumb brushing away what Brian was startled to realize was a tear. 

Brian nodded almost frantically. “Please,” he gasped out, still not taking his eyes from Roger’s gaze, gasping suddenly as those fingers pressed against a spot inside him that made him see stars. His flagging cock took interest again and Roger smiled down at him. He leaned down to press a hard kiss to Brian’s lips. Those fingers kept pressing against that spot and Brian clutched at Roger’s shoulders suddenly needing to feel more. 

“I need, please, more,” he panted out, and Roger chuckled lightly and pressed a third lubed finger into him, making him gasp and twitch and he felt more tears pool in his eyes. He had never gotten this far before with anyone, had never wanted to, but something inside him was suddenly desperate for it. 

After several agonizing moments of fingering him open Roger seemed to deem him ready. The blond reached for a condom, but Brian stopped him with a quick hand. “No,” he said softly, “I want to feel you.” And that little voice in the back of his head was screaming at him that he was being an idiot, that they weren’t in a monogamous relationship anymore, that Roger had been sleeping with other people even if he hadn’t told Brian, and that Brian was being a fool. 

Roger’s big blue eyes searched his face with a small frown, before he nodded once and settled himself back between Brian’s spread thighs. There was some rearranging as Roger hoisted one of Brian’s legs over his shoulder before he lined the blunt head of his bare cock up to Brian’s open and stretched hole. As the other man pushed into him for the first time, Brian made a soft noise he didn’t even know how to describe, a cross between a whimper and a groan of pain, as his body was stretched open on his boyfriend’s cock. 

It only took a handful of heartbeats for Roger to sink into him fully and Brian forced himself to breathe through the dull ache of being stretched like this. “Okay?” Roger asked through gritted teeth, “If it hurts we can stop, Bri.” 

Brian shook his head, willing his body to relax. “Want this,” he said, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Roger’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, wrapping his other leg around Roger’s waist, hook his ankle at the small of his back, urging him to move. It didn’t take long for Roger to set a smooth rhythm, the almost uncomfortable feeling of a cock inside him giving way to something almost pleasurable. 

Clever fingers reached between their bodies and wrapped around Brian’s hard cock and he gasped at the touch. It didn’t take long for Brian to feel that familiar burning in his belly as Roger’s familiar hand stroked his cock in counterpoint to his thrusts, the feeling of being so full still weird but he could live with it. 

“Close,” Roger gasped against his lips, his thrusts growing erratic. Brian tried to arch up to meet him but he wasn’t used to being in this position so he simply held Roger close. 

“Please,” Brian whispered into the kiss, and he finally closed his eyes as he heard Roger gasp, and he felt the cock inside him twitch and he was suddenly filled with warmth as Roger came inside him. The hand on his cock never slowed and soon he was coming all over Roger’s hand and his own belly. 

Roger pulled out with a grimace, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come inside you.” 

Brian said nothing, just reached for the younger man, pulling him down and wrapping his arms around him, ignoring the mess on his belly and leaking from his body. He felt Roger frown against his skin as they both caught their breath, and even once they had calmed Brian didn’t let Roger go, holding him as if his life depended on it. 

“I’m sorry,” Roger repeated softer this time, pressing his face against Brian’s chest. He wasn’t sure what the blond was apologizing for, coming inside him or sleeping with someone else or something else entirely, but Brian just held him without a word until he felt Roger’s breathing slow and he knew the blond had drifted into sleep. He closed his own eyes as they began to burn, refusing to think that this would be the last time he held this man in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t throw things at me....


	15. Chapter XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this took way longer than I thought it would, sorry about that everyone. It's not as long as other chapters, but there's a lot packed into this chapter. Anyway, enjoy!

It was the feeling of hair brushing his face that woke him up, and for a long moment Roger was disoriented and in his half-awake state he couldn’t figure out where he was. The bedroom was dark save for glowing stars stuck to the ceiling and down one wall and he immediately relaxed back into the strong arms he recognized as Brian’s. He closed his eyes and heard Brian huff in his sleep, a small noise that made Roger’s heart clench painfully. He had missed sleeping next to this man. 

He pressed himself closer to Brian, pressing his face against the sleep warm skin, loving how Brian murmured in his sleep and curled closer. He always felt so warm and secure in Brian’s arms, he couldn’t even remember why he had pushed him away. Brian made another soft noise, fully curling around Roger and holding him close and Roger was content to snuggle into the aching familiar embrace. 

His heart ached as he lay in his boyfriend's arms. A part of him wanted to wake Brian and spill his heart out to him now, tell him everything that he had been doing to hurt him. But another part, the selfish part, wanted to lay in this warm embrace just a little while longer. Tears stung behind his closed eyelids and he tried desperately to keep them from falling but he failed, pressing his face more against the warm skin of Brian’s chest, inhale the heady smell of him. 

Brian shifted and grumbled in his sleep and Roger’s heart stuttered in his chest. Those little noises Brian made made him crazy in all the right ways. The other man grumbled again. “Rog?” He mumbled sounding less than half awake. 

Roger pulled his face back to look up at Brian who was squinting down at him. “I’m here,” he whispered, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“What’re’ya doing?” Brian slurred, mostly asleep still even as he tried to blink himself away. 

The blond pressed a quick sweet kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Nothing, go back to sleep, baby. I love you,” he replied, before pressing his face back into Brian’s chest, trying to put as much feeling into those words as he could, trying to get Brian to understand the depth of his realization even as half asleep as the other man was. 

The arms around him tightened briefly before he heard a sleepy “Love you too” and felt Brian’s breathing even out once again and he knew the slightly older man was asleep. 

Roger sighed to himself and tried to stop the tears from falling. He had cried more in the past year than he’d ever done in his life, but he just pressed his face into Brian’s chest and let himself cry silently. Guilt ate at him, not just for everything he had done to Brian but everything he had done to John as well. The sweet sweet John, who would bend over backwards for everyone and cared so deeply about his friends. And Roger had gone and fucked it all up. 

He had known, he  _ knew  _ that John felt more for him than just fuck buddy feelings. He  _ knew  _ the younger man was basically in love with him, and he was an asshole who had gone and played with his heart and his emotions without any remorse. Only he did have remorse, he felt it keenly now as he pressed himself even closer to his boyfriend and for the first time in a long time he offered up hope to the universe that they would be able to work things out between them. 

Something deep inside him screamed that even if he worked things out with Brian, whatever hurt he had caused to John would never go away, that his relationship, whatever that was now, with the younger man would never be the same. He was stuck forever in this world of having one but not the other, and he didn’t know what to do with that realization. 

Roger squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to relax against his boyfriend, forced himself to try to chase sleep as much as he could, but it just wasn’t coming. Instead, he lay awake, curled against his lover’s side, tracing abstract patterns against Brian’s skin, waiting for the other man to wake from his slumber, looking more peaceful than he had in god knows how long. He sat up a bit, smiling when Brian grumbled in his sleep, his nose scrunching adorably, lips parted slightly and pouty. 

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Brian’s sleep parted lips. His lips were soft and pliant and Roger wanted to cry again for some reason at how he had missed watching this man sleep. He couldn’t fight the smile that turned up his lips as he lay back down, cuddling close to Brian again, tucking himself under the other man’s arm. Letting his eyes close, he thought back to when they had met, the curly haired man clearly frustrated with everything as he and Tim had sat in the basement hall of the college, listening to drummer after drummer be, well terrible. 

_ Roger strolled into the hall, spinning his drum sticks in his hand, skinny jeans tight and cuffed at the ankle, his sparkly pink converse shining in the murky light. He had stopped in the  middle of the room, arms folded over his chest, hip cocked confidently.  _

_ “What’s your name?” Tim had asked tiredly.  _

_ Roger had flicked his longish hair over his shoulder, flashing both men a wide grin. “Roger, Roger Taylor,” he introduced himself feeling like James Bond suddenly, meeting hazel eyes that appraised him critically. He winked and the curly haired man flushed and ducked his head; Roger chuckled and settled himself behind the drum kit, spinning his sticks again as he prepared to blow both of their minds.  _

Brian grumbled again in his sleep and pulled Roger closer and Roger tucked his head closer, letting the slightly older man hold him.  __

_ They had been drinking, just him and Brian, after a gig, Tim having fucked off with some girl. It didn’t matter, they were on top of the world, stumbling down the sidewalk together, laughing without a care, shushing each other as Brian tried to fit his key in the lock of his dingy basement flat, giggling as they stumbled into the dark entryway, closing the door noisily behind them as they collapsed into a heap on the cold floor. Something had sparked between them and Roger found himself getting lost in those hazel eyes. Suddenly soft lips were on his and a large hand in his hair and he was pulling on soft curls and he woke the next morning pleasantly sore and naked in Brian’s bed.  _

Roger didn’t bother to fight the tears this time. When had things gone so wrong between them? When had this rift been created? He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried not to think about that night, how one person, one  _ mistake  _ could change his whole world. No, it wasn’t his fault, wasn’t his mistake. It was the man who, who raped him. He let out a shuddering breath and willed away thoughts of that night. Instead is mind drifted to the hazy memory of that morning. 

_ Warm lips against his face, eyelashes tickling his skin, and Roger cane awake in pieces with a smile on his face, eyes fluttering open to meet warm hazel.  _

_ “Morning, sleeping beauty,” Brian teased, leaning in for a soft kiss.  _

_ Roger willingly parted his lips to allow Brian’s tongue entrance, his own tongue tangling with his boyfriend’s, his arms wrapping around the back of Brian’s neck, pulling him into the kiss. They shuffled around, giggling into the kiss, lips never parting, as Brian threw a leg over Roger’s thighs and straddled him, grinding his morning wood against Roger’s. Both men groaned into the kiss.  _

_ No words were needed as Brian fumbled for the mostly empty bottle of lube on the bedside table and pressed a coated finger into Roger’s still loose hole. Roger gasped and arched his hips up as Brian added a second finger, nipping down Roger’s jawline and his neck.  _

_ “Oh, Bri!” Roger gasped as those fingers found his spot and his eyes rolled up in his head, back bowing off the bed. Brian chuckled over him, leaning up to capture his lips again.  _

_ A third finger was worked in easily and Roger tangled his fingers in Brian’s curls and pulled lightly. “Please,” he whined, bucking up into Brian.  _

_ Brian chuckled again and pupil blown hazel eyes stared down at him. “You ready, baby?” He asked softly. At Roger’s nod he drew his fingers out and fumbled for a condom, Roger whining in impatience. It took a handful of moments for Brian to roll the condom down his length and smear lube over himself. Roger gasped, eyes wide, as the blunt head pressed to his stretched hole. They got lost in each other’s eyes as Brian pushed slowly into Roger’s willing body.  _

_ “Bri,” Roger sighed as the other man bottomed out, pulling Brian down for a kiss.  _

_ Tongues tangled together as Brian began to move, his thrusts slow and controlled. “I love you,” he whispered into the kiss, “I love you so much.”  _

_ Roger whimpered and wrapped his legs around Brian’s waist, heels digging into the small of his back. “Brian,” he murmured, “Love you.”  _

Brian shifted in his sleep and Roger was afraid he’d woken him again. Bleary hazel eyes blinked open to look down at him and Roger gave him a sheepish smile. “Go back to sleep, my love,” he whispered, pushing himself up to press a kiss to Brian’s chapped lips. 

A rough thumb brushed over his cheek. “You’re crying,” Brian slurred, concern in his eyes. 

Roger nodded, his smile going soft. “It’s okay, let’s talk in the morning?” He said softly, heart flip flopping when Brian returned his smile, little fang peaking out, and he let himself be pulled down to rest on Brian’s chest. He relaxed into Brian’s hold and let himself drift off to sleep. 

***

He was unusually warm, and he could feel more than hear someone breathing in the room with him, and there was a weight on his chest and he snapped his eyes open to be met with a curtain of blond. He tightened his hold on the person instinctively and held Roger close to his chest. Brian was sure the pounding of his heart would wake the sleeping man, but all Roger did was sigh happily and nuzzled his face against Brian’s chest, a small smile turning up his lips. Brian wanted to cry, he knew that Roger wasn’t smiling because he was curled up with Brian, Brian hadn’t made him smile in a long time, but he couldn’t stop the feeling that maybe they might be able to work things out, maybe if they could just talk about what was wrong. 

Brian shook himself and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his face into Roger’s sweet smelling hair. He would miss this, he would miss holding this man in his arms, but it had to be done. He Shifted away from Roger as gently as he could, letting the still sleeping man wrap around a pillow instead of Brian, and slowly climbed off the bed. Roger grumbled in his sleep and Brian froze, but Roger quieted and Brain continued what he was doing. 

He made quick work of throwing some clothes in a bag, grabbing his school books and laptop, throwing clothes on as quietly as he could, before he tiptoed out of the room. There was a light on the kitchen, breaking the early pre-dawn light that filtered into the shared flat. Curious Brian poked his head in to see John standing at the counter, t-shirt collar loose enough for him to see a dark bruise forming on the base of John’s neck. He bit his lip and tried to not make any noise but John still turned to look at him. 

Grey eyes were bleary with sleep, but he still quirked an eyebrow at Brian as if asking why he had his bags packed. They stared at each other for a long moment before Brian broke the silence. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, blinking rapidly, fighting tears, seeing John frown at him, “Thank you for taking care of him when I couldn’t. For being there when I should have been and couldn’t be, he’s happy again and it’s not with me.” He forced himself to look away so John wouldn’t see his tears. 

There was a noise down the hall and Brain knew it was Roger getting up. The blond stumbled into the kitchen and stopped, blinking at both John and Brian for a moment with a frown. 

“What’s…?’ Roger started but Brian surged forward and pressed one last desperate kiss to Roger’s lips, wanting to pour all his love and devotion to this incredible firecracker of a man whom he had failed. Roger made a startled noise but before he could return the kiss Brain pulled back.

Brain cupped Roger’s cheek gently in one hand, gazing into his bright blue eyes as if trying to memorize the color of them. “I love you,” he whispered before he swallowed hard.“I - I have to go.” 

John moved forward as if to stop him, Roger reaching for his arm to stop him, but Brian was already down the hall, his backpack over his shoulder, bag in one hand his guitar in the other, and he fled into the early morning light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, yell at me about this in the comments and I will just cry back at you because it hurts.


	16. Chapter XVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently, updates will be monthly? Idk sorry about that, life has happened and I haven’t had the time I wanted to devote to this. I will have more time starting soon so thank you al for being patient and for all your lovely words and comments! They mean the world to me

John was sure there was a hand wrapped around his lungs, squeezing, making it impossible for him to breathe. He leaned back against the counter, knuckles white in their death grip on the edge, his eyes locked with Roger’s wide startled blue ones. He didn’t know what to do. That was an unusual feeling for him. He was always so in control and sure of himself. 

“What- What did he say to you?” Roger’s trembling voice broke the silence and John blinked at him for a second before he shook his head. 

“Roger,” he started, licking his lips trying to find the words. 

“What did he say!” The blond was actually shaking now, his voice raised to the point of bordering on hysterical. 

John stared at him. Roger rarely yelled at him. Towards him, in his general direction yes, but never directed at him. “He thanked me,” John mumbled miserably, prying his fingers away from the counter to fold his arms over his belly. He felt like he was going to throw up. “He thanked me for taking care of you,” 

“He-“ Roger swore to himself and took off out of the kitchen, calling Brian’s name as he threw the front door open. John closed his eyes in despair as he heard the front door slam close. He knew Roger had run after the other man but he also knew Brian would be gone by now, well out of sight. 

His stomach rolled and he squeezed his eyes tighter closed as he heard the front door open again. He wished at that moment he was a turtle so he could just retreat into his hard shell and block out the world. 

“What’s happened?” 

Freddie’s voice was soft and concerned yet undercut with something John couldn’t place. John shook his head and clenching his teeth together darted for the bathroom. His knees cracked on the tile as he collapsed in front of the toilet and he barely got the lid up before the limited amount of breakfast he’d eaten was coming back up. He let out a weak sob as he dry heaved again and again, tears springing in his eyes. 

A warm hand on his back startled him. “John, what happened?” It was Freddie, his tone gentle, his fingers almost loving as they stroked through his hair. 

“Bri-Brian’s left,” he mumbled, voice rough, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, leaning back from the toilet. He leaned against the sink and drew his knees up to his chest, blinking at Freddie with wide eyes. “He’s left and Roger’s gone after him,” he could feel his breathing becoming labored now and he knew he was about to have a panic attack but he felt like there was nothing he could do to stop it. “And- And Brian knows, he  _ knows,  _ Freddie and he thanked me for taking care of Roger when he couldn’t and then he just. Fucking. Left.” 

John couldn’t even look at Freddie, pressing his face into his knees, letting his body shake and tremble from his sobs and impending panic attack. He knew that Freddie was disappointed in him, knew that he had been the one to cock this whole thing up. If he had just kept his stupid crush on his best friend a secret, never acted on it, this would have never happened. 

“Shh, just breathe, John, just breathe with me, okay?” Freddie’s words barely registered with John who was gasping for air, his chest tight, his fingers digging in his own hair as he sucked in shallow breath after shallow breath. Strong arms wrapped around him and he felt Freddie press himself to his side. “Breathe with me, John, c’mon, lovie, match my breaths, there you go, very good.” 

John nodded slightly helplessly as he tried to breathe with Freddie, his vision blurred by tears, his whole body still trembling even as he could feel his heart rate starting to slow back to normal, even while his breathing still came in painful hiccups and gasps. 

“There we go, dear,” Freddie cooed at him, fingers carding through his hair gently. “Now, want to tell me what’s going on?” 

Shaking his head slowly, John pushed himself away from Freddie. He curled around himself, back pressing against the sink cabinet, trying to scoot as far away from the other man as he could. Freddie didn’t need this this morning. He’d had a lovely weekend with Jim and he came home to this. 

Silence stretched between them for a long moment and both jumped startled as the front door slammed open and then closed again followed by the sound of Roger’s bedroom door slamming shut. John tried to curl even more in on himself. He’d done this. All of this was his fault. He was the one who ruined everything. 

“Hey, now, shhh,” Freddie’s voice startled him and with an ever growing horror John realized he’d said all those things outloud. “Not all of this is your fault, dear, Roger is just as much at fault as you are, don’t think it’s all your fault.” 

John simply shook his head, pressing his face harder into his knees. As much sense as Freddie’s words made, they did little to comfort him. He couldn’t get the sound of Brian’s defeated voice out of his head, and the way he had looked at him before he left.  _ Thanking  _ him for taking care of Roger when he couldn’t. John shoved himself back to his knees and dry heaved into the toilet again, eyes watering not just from the effort. 

Beside him, Freddie sighed and continued rubbing his back in soothing circles waiting for him to be done. 

***

Roger hadn’t noticed he had run out of the flat in his bare feet until he got back. The bottoms of his feet were black and cut up, he was shivering slightly from the cool early morning air, and all he wanted to do now was curl up in a ball and die somewhere. Brian has left. He was gone and there was nothing Roger could do about it. 

His phone screen was mocking him, the cute picture of his and Brian’s smiling faces glared up at him from the contact photo and his thumb hovered over the blue lettered number. He’d send so many texts. And he’d called so many times already. He blinked back the tears that blurred the screen before he tapped the number and held the phone to his head waiting for it to ring. 

It rang and rang and rang and didn’t even go to voicemail. Brian must have denied his call. He didn’t even bother blinking back the tears at this point. He had finally finally come to his senses and was ready to tell Brian everything, confess it all, but it seemed he had underestimated just how observant Brian was. 

There was a soft knock in the bedroom door, and Roger rolled over, wrapping himself around Brian’s pillow, pressing his face into the soft fabric. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep as the door cracked open. 

“Rog?” 

Shit it was Freddie. He felt more tears sting behind his closed eyelids but stayed still facing away from from. He heard the other man sigh softly. 

“I know you’re awake, Roger dear,” Freddie said softly, and the bed beside him dipped as the other man perched lightly on the edge. “C’mon, blondie, talk to me, don’t get all in your head. What’s going on?” 

There was a long pause as Roger continued to not move still pretending to be asleep despite Freddie knowing he wasn’t. He didn’t respond partially because he didn’t want to and mostly because he honestly didn’t know what to say. What was he thinking? He mostly felt numb. Like the whole world had been shifted out from under his feet and he was drifting in unknown space now, unable to find solid ground. He had lost his rock that had always kept him grounded and he didn’t know what to do. 

After several long and silent moments Freddie sighed again, gentle fingers brushing through Roger’s messy hair. “Okay, be that way, but I’m here when you want to talk, and I know John is too,” he said, his words warm and despite the sudden unpleasant feeling Roger got in his chest at the sound of John’s name, knowing he had people made him feel a little better. Freddie sighed again and with one last brush of his fingers through Roger hair, the bed shifted back into place and the door clicked shut and Roger was alone again in the room. 

Roger eased his burning eyes open and held his phone up looking desperate at the screen where he had sent message after message to Brian hoping the older man would reply. Nothing. His blue text bubbles mocked him, unanswered but the much wanted gray. Closing his eyes again against a fresh wave of tears and held his phone close to his chest and curled in more against Brian’s pillow, breathing in the lingering smell of the fruity shampoo he used and hints of his aftershave. This time Roger didn’t even fight the tears. 

All he wanted to do was sleep but his brain would not shut off. Grumbling to himself, he pushed himself up and staggered to his chest of drawers where he had stashed the bottle of sleeping pills Dr. Coleman had prescribed a few months ago. He squinted down at the bottle and, honestly not caring at this point, shook out four and dry swallowed them before crawling back up the bed, dragging a blanket with him, curling back around Brian’s pillow, his phone clutched in his hand, and he surrendered to the siren call of sleep. 

*** 

Freddie ran a hand through his hair as he settled at the kitchen table, stroking his mustache thoughtfully as he stared down at his blank phone screen. His friends, his  _ family,  _ his  _ brothers!,  _ were in pain and he hated not knowing what to do. Should he try to find Brian? Reach out to at least make sure he was okay? He honestly didn’t know, but he needed to talk to someone. 

Right as he was reaching for his phone the screen lit up with a text notification from Brian. His heart almost jumped out of his chest. 

_ Hey Fred, I’m at my parents. Don’t tell Roger. I’m okay I just need some time.  _

Well, at least he’d let him know? That was a good sign wasn’t it? Freddie couldn’t help but sigh again as he was about to type out a message, eyeing the dancing grey text bubble dots carefully. Half way through his reply the phone vibrated again other grey text bubble appearing. 

_ Tell him I’m sorry. I’ll contact him when I can.  _

Awesome. Now he was stuck in the middle of this which is exactly where he didn’t want to be. Great. He pursed his lips and deleted what he had written before and sent three words back:  _ tell him yourself  _

Making a frustrated noise, he all but slammed his phone face down on the table and rolled his eyes. And he’d had such a lovely weekend too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s happened. Sorry it’s short. Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think. Come tell about it with me on tumblr @NightOfTheLand

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading. I have the next chapter ready to go and it should be posted in the next day or so, probably over the weekend. This has been a labor of love, writing this story, and rather cathartic for me, so I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! Ta!


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